


Faults and Fortitude

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: The Reaper and his Archangel [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, M/M Rares 2018, ME2, Mild Gore, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 116,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Summary:Freed from indoctrination upon Sovereign's destruction, Saren Arterius spent months in incarceration for his crimes against the galaxy. In the meantime, the Council still refuses to take the Reaper threat seriously, despite Commander Shepard's death.Saren is too dangerous to be kept alive, yet too valuable to destroy. They found an alternative, but forgot to account for one minor issue: They're both hard to kill.Excerpt:Nothing mattered. He had lost years of his life because the Council didn’t see a need for him.Their best agent.He’d… he’d dedicated his life to them and for what? To be thrown under lock and key until they saw a specific need for him. Like he was some tool to be thrown in the back of a workshop to collect dust and be forgotten? He wasn’t even sure if it was anger he felt or disappointment or just unadulterated rage.Two Spirits-damned years.NSFW Chapters: 7, 10, 11Art Embedded Chapters: 2, 9, 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo/gifts).



> A story dedicated to one on my closest friends. I enjoyed writing the first chapter of Vices and Virtues so much that is has become yet another one of my 100k+ series. I hope you enjoy it too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Red - Still Alive**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lq57GG49Kdw)

**Miranda:** “If we hack that control, every door on this cell block opens.”

 **Jacob:** “It’s the only way to get Jack out of Cryo.”

 **Shepard:** “I’m doing it, be ready.”

What happened next will change the course of the game’s history...

\- - -

**Chapter 1 - Faults and Fortitude**

\- - -

The very first thing Saren registered was an icy chill running up the length of his spine, frigid air surrounded him in a haze. He was moving, not on his own but upwards -the pull of artificial gravity, or so he figured. A lingering ache made his shoulders tighten and he grunted. Opening his mouth, it felt like he’d been asleep for too long. His mandibles were stiff against his face, his tongue felt fuzzy and useless between his teeth.

Metal grinding on metal made him wince, the sound too loud after too long a time spent in silence. When the biotic managed to blink his eyes open, the light pained them too. Brightness made him squint as he was unable to cover them with his only wrist trapped as it was at his waist. The geth arm he’d been fitted with by _Sovereign_ had long since been destroyed.

Comfort definitely wasn’t something the doctors or the guards had considered when they woke him. Although, that come as a surprise. They were as much monsters as the Reaper pawns that had implanted the technology had been in the first place.

Attempting to stretch his neck out, Saren caught against another metal binding, a collar. He growled at the despicable conditions that the Council had left him in. He deserved better than this squalor. He deserved his freedom.

Awareness started to settle in when the motion stopped and the mist dissipated. The chill in his extremities began to ebb and his eyes acclimatized to the harsh fluorescent lights. It was only then that Saren realized that he’d been cryogenically frozen. For how long, he didn’t know.

A flat, female voice to his right forced Saren to refocus his attention on a human that had been woken at the same time. As the world sharpened in front of his gaze, he watched her break free from the bindings, similar to his own. Apparently, he had not been awakened intentionally. Otherwise, there would have been a slew of guards waiting for him. Nor would there have been another prisoner reanimated in the same chamber. It was too dangerous.

 _He_ was too dangerous.

The thought made his mandibles slide into a grin. Now was his chance to escape. He’d tried to be accommodating, he’d allowed the Council to keep him in custody for months. He’d done the treatments they forced on him, however painful, and come out no better for them.

Tightening his only hand into a fist, he willed the first binding open and then tore at the one around his neck. Stepping forward out of his own steel pod, Saren took in the environment. It was a warehouse. Cold metal walls with no real defining features surrounded him. A control room sat above the level he was confined on. There were three cages, like his own, that had risen from below the deck and only one other had been occupied. Twisting toward the doors, he watched a series of mechs begin their startup protocol, the sound of metal grinding and electronics spooling filled the space. They would need to be dispatched before he could leave. There were no sapient guards.

Before Saren could even finish leaving the pod, the human screamed out a battle-cry. Her body igniting in the familiar blue colouring of a biotic aura before she attacked the centre of three mechs waiting for them.

Not to be outdone, Saren rolled out his neck as he stepped forwards out of the containment ring. With a mere flick of his wrist, his biotics were flaring to life. Without an amp, his power was less refined than normal, though he wasn’t any less deadly. Instead of clean spikes of biotic energy the edges frayed, it was more difficult to control the flare, but he was nothing if not an expert at his craft. The Council underestimated him.

The mechs were more akin to a fledgling’s plaything than an actual challenge for the pair of them. The human’s biotics were anything but controlled, yet she was effective at the least.

Above them, at the cell’s viewing port, movement caught his eye. Three humans stood there, but only one of them warranted his attention. ‘ _Shepard._ ’

Saren snarled despite himself. His jaw tightening as his hand glowed even brighter and he tore the head off of a second mech. At the edge of his hearing, the woman hollered in triumph but he paid her no mind. The human Spectre was on the station and that was invariably the reason for his unplanned awakening.

He wouldn’t thank Shepard, not after everything that had happened. But he couldn’t bring himself to be ungrateful. Anything was better than an eternity of waiting for the Council to revive him. Anything was better than remaining frozen in time until he was deemed useful again. To be given no choice in the matter to begin with…. Despicable.

Saren’s attention turned back to the battle as Shepard and the other humans disappeared from his sightlines. He was certain they’d be seeing one another again soon.

After that, the three mechs were destroyed within a matter of seconds. It felt good to stretch his abilities once again. It had been far too long. For six months after the destruction of _Sovereign,_ he’d been held in a mental institution of a sort, his doctors working to cure him of indoctrination. Though he tried to explain, multiple times, that with _Sovereign_ dead the Reapers held no influence over him, no one cared to listen. They’d torn the cybernetic implants from his skull and plates, replacing all of the tech in his body with new. Even his cybernetic eyes were gone, replaced with cloned tissue after he’d been left blind for nearly a month.

Once they finished with him, he’d been forced into captivity... wherever this was. He didn’t recognize the space and he’d seen the Council’s high security prison facility from both sides; jailer and prisoner. Whenever the Council had decided he wasn’t worth the effort of keeping awake and put him in cryo, he couldn’t recall.

Even as he closed his eyes and attempted to force the memory to return, he found his mind blank. No one had ever mentioned cryogenically freezing him. Opening them again, he looked down at the empty space his arm should have occupied. The last thing he did remember was being told he needed a procedure to adjust the artificial shoulder socket.

After that, nothing.

Saren shoved the thoughts aside, there would be time to deal with it later. Instead, he turned his attention to the other prisoner. The human’s chest was heaving as she turned her gaze on him, Saren kept his face emotionless and merely raised a brow-plate at her. What he’d thought was a fitted shirt was actually a maze of tattoos, enough to make his head hurt if he tried to stare at them too long. A spare glance downwards showed he was in a similar dress, a bright orange pair of pants that hung loosely around his hips, a simple pair of cheap boots were on his feet and his torso was barely covered under a thin sleeveless shirt. Not that he needed sleeves, what with an arm missing.

She turned away, starting to jog toward the doors. When she was nearly there, she stopped and half-turned around to yell: “You coming or not, birdy?”

Though Saren growled at the term, he followed. There was no use overexerting himself when there was a willing body to throw at the masses first. His distaste for humans still lingered deep in his bones… but he was smart enough to put the preconceived notions aside when it benefited him.

Surprisingly enough, the human was easy to work with.

Where he carried all the finesse of a turian biotic prodigy, she had all the raw power that one could expect from early human experimentation. Despite the tattoos, his keen eyes saw the scarred web underneath them. Scars similar enough to the ones he used to carry along his spinal column and along the back of his skull for him to know exactly what they’d done to her.

The mass of scar tissue on the human didn’t stop there, it continued along her chest and arms… probably her entire body. Humans were truly a despicable species. This one could barely be considered an adult.

She would, however, help him get off the station. Then they could go their separate ways. He had no interest in working with her longer than he needed to. Her disregard for his safety as she flung a mech towards his head made him feel that she was probably thinking the same. They were both using one another as a means to an end. Saren could respect that.

He did, however, want to know where they were.

“Human!” Saren shouted over the din of a blaring alarm as he slid along the ground between the legs of yet another massive mech. As he passed beneath it, he threw a biotic blast up its centre, crippling it’s systems. “Where are we?”

The biotic leapt over the crumpled remains and sent a shockwave down the hall with a roar. “Purgatory! Look left!”

Saren tossed out a warp as she suggested and hit a batarian square in the chest. The blue armour took a moment to register in his mind as Blue Suns. A menacing growl dropped from his throat as he tore the human following the batarian to shreds.

Standing, they came to a halt beside one another. Both were short of breath, the heavy biotic use was exhausting without an amp. “What is Purgatory?” he asked.

Her bald head cocked to the side. “You stupid or something? It’s a prison ship. Terminus systems. Mercenary run. Some bare-” she caught the slur and changed the insult, “-asshole names Kuril runs the place. Extorts colonies for money, otherwise he’ll drop prisoners off.”

He scoffed, amazed that the Council would stoop so low.

“Tell you what, we get out of here? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Too angry to reply, Saren simply flicked his crest in acknowledgment and continued to follow the tattooed woman through the prison. She seemed to have a better idea of where they were and the way out, for now she could lead. They worked in tandem killing other prisoners and guards alike.

Apparently, Shepard had not only opened his cell block but _all_ of them. It took the biotics a while to reach the docking bay, a few of the routes were blocked and some had even been vented into space.

By the time they found themselves tearing down the catwalk towards safety, two guards still thought it pertinent to stand in their way. While Jack slid across the floor, her biotics tearing a batarian in Blue Suns armour into two pieces, he cut his arm through the air in front of him, shoving the turian guard into the wall and breaking his neck.

They came to a halt at a series of viewports. The tattooed woman took one look at the frigate docked outside, instantly recognizing the insignia. “Cerberus!”

While she panicked and stomped about the deck, Saren took a closer look and he recognized a different part. _Normandy_. This was Shepard’s ship… yet it wasn’t. It was too large, the angles too soft to be of turian design. This was a new starship.

_‘Just how long was I in cryo?’_

A shot whizzed by his head, taking out a batarian that neither he nor the human, had seen approaching them. The body slumped to the ground, dead. Both of the biotics swung around to see Shepard flanked by the pair of humans he’d been with in the viewing station. Now that they were closer, he could see the Cerberus yellow and black emblem on their chests. One was a male, darker than Shepard and the other a female.

His co-conspirator was the first to speak. “What the hell do you want?”

“I just saved your ass,” Shepard told her, scoffing. His voice didn’t sound quite right, it was… different. Harsher than when they’d last spoke, or rather when he’d last taunted the man.

Hiding his surprise behind a scowl, he watched the two of them bickered back and forth for a few moments, ignoring him entirely. Saren let them, it wasn’t his quarrel to be a part of. Shepard wasn’t here for him, he was here for the human, Jack.

Saren agreed with the raging fireball that had been escaping alongside him, Cerberus was not an entity he’d expected Shepard to be associated with. The Spectre may have been human, but he was not an alien hater.

“I’m offering to be your friend,” Shepard said before following his words up with a threat. “You don’t want to be my enemy.”

“Just ask Arterius,” the darker skinned male commented offhanded, gesturing toward him.

The turian growled, tilting his head forward in a subtle show of displeasure. As if _Shepard_ had been the one who had broken Sovereign's hold on him. “Shepard isn’t the reason I’m here. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Huh,” Jack looked at him sideways. “I expected you to be taller.”

Though tempted to throw an insult back, Saren kept his mouth shut and levelled a glare at her instead. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the rest. The gesture was too reminiscent of the one Garrus had made on that fateful morning on Noveria. He had to give his head a shake to squash the memories. There would be time later.

“You show up in a Cerberus frigate, expecting to take me away somewhere. You think I’m stupid?” the tattooed woman asked them.

Shepard just laughed and stated the obvious. “This ship is going down in flames, I’ve got the only way out. I’m offering to take you with me. And you’re arguing.”

After a few more moments of bickering, they came to a bargain. Jack led the way down the docking tube toward the frigate, taking the other two humans with her and leaving Saren standing face-to-face with Shepard.

“What are you even doing here?” Shepard asked him seriously as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his heel.

Saren grit his teeth. He didn’t have much to bargain with and it was unlikely that Shepard was lying… this probably was the only way off Purgatory. Telling the truth could only benefit him for the moment, maybe not the whole truth… but enough. “After being declared free of indoctrination, I was transported here and held by Council order. I was declared too valuable an asset to destroy.”

“Alright, well…” Shepard’s arms uncrossed and he rubbed the back of his shaved head with one hand as he released a long breath. “Come with me then, I’m going to need all the help I can get to stop the Reapers.” He turned and started leading the way down towards the ship, trusting enough to give Saren his back. The others were already waiting in the airlock for them.

The biotic looked back at the carnage he’d left behind. There was no choice. He began following Shepard. His voice could almost be considered snide as he prompted: “Is the Council not listening to their new favourite?”

Glancing over his shoulder, the human’s mouth was drawn into a tight line. “Exactly how long ago were you detained here?”

“I don’t know,” his mandibles flared outwards at the idiocy of the question. “I’ve been in cryo.”

Shepard stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his head. “You’re in for a pretty awful surprise then… come on.”

Inside the airlock, the turian and four humans waited in silence. Saren, standing a pace behind the rest, observed that both of Shepard’s lackeys had a hand on their pistols. He flicked his crest in annoyance, it was unclear if they were wary of him or the tattooed human. If they were smart, it would have been both.

The Spectre stepped out of the airlock first, turning left towards the front of the ship while the rest of the humans turned right. At first glance, the frigate was large and grossly under-packed. There was too much wide open space as he looked down the command deck. The lights were too bright and the temperature far too cool. He was sad to say that Purgatory had been better suited to turians than this.

“Joker, ready to go?” Shepard addressed the pilot.

Spinning around in his chair, the pilot took in the motley crew. His eyes widened comically as he locked eyes on the turian. “Uh… Shepard? You do realize that’s Saren standing behind you, right?”

Shepard sighed. “I am aware.”

Saren simply stared at him, emotionless.

“Right, well… okay then.” The pilot, Joker, tore his eyes off Saren’s plates and looked back to the human. A touch of fear sat in his voice even as he stowed the attitude and got back on task. “We’re ready, where to?”

“Omega.”

“Understood. I’ll get right on that.” He might’ve said more, he looked like he wanted to, but instead just turned back towards his console and began running the calculations. There was a fluidity to his motions that spoke of experience, perhaps this was the same pilot that had piloted the first _Normandy_.

It didn’t really matter.

Saren followed the humans through the command deck. As he walked, he caught the eyes of most crew members rise from their stations to watch him and the rest pass. As his cold gaze slid over them, each one stiffened and turned back to their work. Intimidation came naturally to him, it always had.

“How long did you spend in custody before they sent you to Purgatory?” Shepard asked as they passed through the ship’s armoury. The ex-Spectre noted a number of decent weapons sitting on the racks, apparently, the pro-human terrorist group was not above using other species technology.

“Six months,” he replied without stopping his visual inspection. In front of him, Shepard stopped and turned around. A grim expression sat across his mouth, his brow pinched inwards, which brought Saren to a halt, his head tilting in question.

After a short, pregnant pause Shepard deadpanned, “It’s been two years, Saren.”

“Excuse me?” Even Saren couldn’t school his expression against that piece of news. He’d expected a few months at most… but _two years_. That… that wasn’t possible.

“You missed a lot. I died. Cerberus brought me back to life. The Council is covering up the Reapers entirely. They’ve put all the blame on you and the geth-”

Shepard kept on talking as he began leading him toward the briefing room. Saren was still stuck on the timeline, ignoring most of the rest for now. He didn’t want to believe it.

The briefing room was again large, a table stood in the centre of the room without chairs sitting around it. Shepard picked up a datapad off the table and transferred something to it with his omnitool before offering it to him. “Here, this is what I have so far.”

The biotic merely nodded, taking the offering and he began to read. The script was only a rough translation from human common, Shepard must have switched the language over before handing it to him, but it was enough. The rest of the humans settled and began discussing the situation, their bickering resuming while he was busy.

Saren’s mandibles hung slack from his jaw as he stared at the evidence. His pale blue eyes widened at the numbers on the datapad in front of him. Two years. He really had been cryogenically frozen for _two Spirits-damned_ years.

On the edge of his consciousness, he realized that the humans were ignoring him as they continued to argue over useless data and discuss the ship’s rules. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had lost years of his life because the Council didn’t see a need for him.

_Their best agent._

He’d… he’d dedicated his _life_ to them and for what? To be thrown under lock and key until they saw a specific need for him. Like he was some tool to be thrown in the back of a workshop to collect dust and be forgotten? He wasn’t even sure if it was anger he felt or disappointment or just unadulterated rage. _Two years._

Shepard had _died_ and been brought back to life during that time. Saren still wasn’t quite sure that he believed that either, but considering he was standing in the briefing room of a Cerberus frigate with the human who’d hunted him across the galaxy, things were already so wildly fucked up that it was likely all true.

He couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to believe it.

When Saren finally stowed his inner panic and came back to reality, the humans had finished negotiating. The Cerberus female, who he’d learned was Lawson, escorted Jack to the door. “Do I need to put her in the holding cells?” she asked Shepard with a snide smile. “Just to be safe?”

Shepard shook his head, exasperated, as Jack answered for herself. “Yeah, no thanks precious. I’ll find my own place. Somewhere near the bottom. I don’t like through traffic. Don’t keep me waiting, Shepard.” She paused, one hand on the doorframe. Without looking back she said, “Sorry about your luck, Arterius. You sound even more screwed than me. I was only in the deep freeze a few weeks. Good luck with that.”

Without further comment, she left. Lawson tight on her heels and the human male, Taylor, on hers.

Once the door closed, the hum of the drive core was the only sound for a handful of minutes. Shepard didn’t turn back toward him, nor did Saren attempt to leave. The pair needed to discuss just what in the Spirits’ names was going on. Nothing was as it should be.

“Saren, what I said back there… I meant it. I’m going to need your help to defeat the Reapers.” Shepard spun around, looking at him square on and with his head raised. The position he knew was a human sign of confidence but his primal brain reminded him it was a weakness to display one’s throat to an enemy.

“Why trust me?” he asked without malice, even his subvocals remained flat despite the human inability to hear them. It was a habit, even after months of disuse.

Shepard’s hands opened, gesturing around the room. “Would you trust them?” Saren’s brow-plate rose, questioning him. “I sure as hell don’t. I need as many people on my side as possible. You, of all people, know what the Reapers are capable of. You know I can’t do this alone.”

“Alone,” he scoffed, cutting his hand through the air. “How do you expect to get help while working for Cerberus? Other humans might be willing to serve terrorists but the rest of the galaxy will condemn you for it.”

Shepard let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “The Council won’t listen. I’ve already been there to speak with them. They reinstated my Spectre status as a show of good faith, but that’s all. I don’t have the manpower, I don’t have resources. This is all I have. Cerberus. It’s their ship, their funding. The colonies that have been attacked by the Collectors have all been human, so the Council doesn’t give a shit.”

“Do you even have one non-human aboard this ship?”

The Spectre gave him a pointed look and flicked his chin toward him. “So far, just you.” Saren had to stifle the urge to growl in annoyance.

Saren needed to move, so he paced the length of the room. The mass-produced boots clunked against the decking as he walked. That was one of the many things he’d need to correct if he was going to remain aboard this ship. He’d need armour too, weapons, provisions.

With his Spectre status revoked… he needed Shepard, loathed as he was to admit it. The human could grant him amnesty, allow him to do what he was sworn to do and protect the galaxy. Spectre status or not, he was honour-bound to the Milky Way by his own Spirit. He turned and walked back to stand in front of the human, reaching his arm out in the human gesture for agreement.

“I’ll help you,” he said.

Shepard took his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

The handshake was firm and short. Enough for the sentiment without getting sentimental. His mind was already running through the next steps: Supplies, information. “You mentioned Omega?”

“I have two or three potential recruits there from Cerberus’ files. The dossiers are in the datapad I gave you,” Shepard told him as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Should be there for a cycle or two, it depends on how long it takes to evaluate the candidates. A human, a salarian and an unknown.”

Saren hummed in understanding and slight curiosity over the mention of an unknown.

He should be able to get what he needed from Omega, it was the location of one of his many stockpiles. As a Spectre of his calibre, he’d had a fair number of resources made available to him over the years and acquired a few businesses too. If things were as he’d left them, or even half as well, everything would be in order. “I have some business to attend to there.”

“Not going to run off on me, are you?” Shepard joked. Although Saren could tell from the timbre of his voice that the question was half serious.

“I’ve given you my word,” he snarled, insulted by the insinuation.

The human’s hands rose as if he was surrendering. “Whoa, don’t bite my head off.”

“If only it were so simple, Shepard.”

“Huh, right…” his arms slid across his chest again, crossing as he sat back into his hip. Saren noted it was the same way he stood earlier, favouring the right leg, perhaps there was a lingering injury that caused him discomfort. “Well, we’ll be there in a few hours. Enough time to catch some sleep at least. Is there anything else you need?”

In fact, there was. Saren just wasn’t sure if he wanted to voice the question or not. From the human’s answers earlier, he knew that his par-… he knew that _Garrus_ wasn't on the ship. Without the information being offered freely, the question would continue to burn in his mind. Perhaps, it would even deter sleep and that was not acceptable for mission readiness.

It was better to ask. Get the question out of his mind.

“There is one more thing,” he initiated. Shepard nodded for him to continue, curiosity sitting brightly in his eyes. Saren’s mandibles pulled into his face with the discomfort at the stare, the query made him uneasy.

“Well?”

“Where is Garrus?”

Shepard’s expression dropped and that was all Saren needed to see. He clamped his teeth together, stopping any semblance of emotion from rolling out in his second voice or his features from giving away the disappointment.

“I don’t know.  No one does.”

That… wasn't right. Vakarian wasn’t the sort to just disappear. Perhaps he was picked up by Blackwatch or another Hierarchy venture. He was more than qualified, even before helping to ‘save’ the Citadel from him and the geth. “What do you mean?”

Saren could hear the man’s teeth grind together in his mouth. “Apparently, a month or so after my death he went missing. He quit C-Sec, never showed up for Spectre training. No one I’ve asked seemed to know where he is, and my messages bounced when I tried to contact him. He’s in the wind.” Shepard blew out a breath and looked at the floor for a moment, almost as though he was trying to gather the courage to say more.

Picking up on the human’s hesitance, he prompted him to speak his mind. “You want to ask something, go ahead.”

Shepard looked up, his gaze intense and jaw tight. He had been preparing himself. “I know you two were… well…”

“We were,” Saren said to cut him off. He didn’t need to hear the words.

“Right, well when we saw you… I was hoping you’d know where he was. Or maybe how we could find him. I guess we’re both screwed, two years gone.”

Saren couldn’t force himself to do more than grunt in answer. Shepard was right, but he wasn’t about to agree aloud. No… he needed to process this new information. He needed to do some research of his own and see what he’d missed these past two years.

They parted ways.

He didn’t much care where Shepard went. It wasn’t important. The only thing that was, was resorting himself. A meal and a shower first, then perhaps he’d find somewhere to rest. While his mind sprinted in a thousand different ways, his face remained outwardly impassive. The crew deck was empty when he arrived, Lawson had mentioned the _Normandy’s_ schedule when they’d been in the briefing room. The night cycle had started while they were busy and the deck would be empty for a while.

The AI he’d been introduced to before Shepard left him, led him into the lavatory first at his instruction. Not only did he want to warm up, but he wanted to get out of the blood-stained prison uniform he was forced to wear.

An Artificial Intelligence hadn’t been entirely unexpected. Cerberus was involved in much more sinister things than illegal tech. He almost huffed a laugh as he added reanimating humans to their list of crimes. He’d been working on developing his own for a time before _Sovereign_ began to invade his thoughts. The project had been left unfinished. He wasn’t opposed to studying this one and using it to his advantage as it suited him.

Stepping up to the sinks, he started undressing. His single hand pulled at the drawstring around his waist and at the clasps on his boots. A noise of frustration fell from his maw as he worked. All of the day’s stressors ate at his hide and even the slightest setback felt like climbing a mountain.

Once nude, the ex-Spectre took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. Where there had been metal and cybernetics there was now the best artificial plate that credits could buy. His hide was scarless and smooth, plates bare of cracks or paint. His hand rose to trail over the line of his zygomatic horns. He looked younger.

It was… odd.

Shaking his head to clear the fog, he pushed away from the sink and collected his clothing. Without anything else to wear, Saren tossed the uniform into one of the cleaning units recessed into the sidewall of the lavatory. The controls were intuitive enough, even without an omnitool on his wrist to translate the symbols for him. When the Citadel doctors had removed his cybernetic enhancements, they’d taken them all except for his amp port. A useless brick of metal had been slotted into its place to keep the port clean. Yet another annoyance.

“AI, how long until we arrive on Omega?” Saren asked as he turned on one of the showers and waited for the water to heat. He found it cold to the touch and adjusted the spray until it was up to the hottest setting.

A robotic feminine voice piped in over the speakers as the artificial intelligence said. _“Eight standard hours, Arterius.”_

Saren hummed in acknowledgment as he stepped under the cool jet of water. He stiffened at the chill. “Damn humans and their damn soft hides,” he muttered under his breath.

 _“Would you prefer the temperature was increased?”_ the AI asked.

Without mulling it over, Saren agreed. The heat rose substantially, enough for steam to fill the room and for him to finally start removing the ice from his bones. He cleaned himself as best he could without a plate scrub and only one arm. At the least, when he finished there was no more blood on his plates. His missing limb was not enough to impede him in battle, nor in domestic tasks… yet it remained an annoyance.

Just another one to add to the ever-growing list.

After stepping out of the shower and drying off, the cleaning unit still had another ten minutes or so of runtime. Without a second thought, he headed for the mess hall in search of something edible.

_“Dextro-safe rations are currently available only in emergency ration bar format, Arterius. You will find them stored above the cooling unit.”_

Saren did not thank the AI, even as he found the rations exactly where it said they would be. Biting into a ration bar, he was surprised to find it was fresh. The flavour left something to be desired, but as the first thing he’d eaten in _two Spirits-damned years,_ it was bearable. He swallowed it down quickly before going for another. Mentally, he added better rations to his supplies list. He wouldn’t make it long on the _Normandy_ if they forced him to eat this shit on an ongoing basis.

After returning to the washroom to fetch his now-cleaned clothing, Saren decided it was time to look for somewhere to sleep. A quick survey from the AI told him that most of the ship was empty. With the humans taking up the sleeper pods and crew room, he decided it best to commandeer one of the lounges. Why anyone would design a frigate with _two_ lounges boggled his mind.

Nonetheless, he first checked the lounge with the bar. It was lacking any dextro alcohol and though he could drink the levo stuff his taste buds wouldn’t appreciate it. He left and headed for the opposing side, here at least he could lock the door and not risk a mutiny for liquor.

Saren settled in on one of the couches. Exhaustion pulling at his hide. Even with his mind racing, sleep came easily. His dreams were wild and unkind, plagued with images, not of Reapers… but of a deceased Garrus laying at his feet.

+-+-+-+

Omega was the same cesspool he remembered it to be.

Without even passing through the docking port there was already a fight. A human beating a batarian senseless. A salarian was watching. Saren ignored it, leaving Shepard behind and passing through the gateway to the station alone.

A second batarian was making his way in the opposite direction, seemingly to meet the _Normandy_ in the docking bay. Saren noted his armour was quality and without a mercenary emblem. He could have been one of Aria’s if the asari was still in charge of the station. It didn’t concern him for the moment, even when the male gasped and moved out of his way. If Aria was in charge, she’d know soon enough regardless.

Stale air assaulted his nostrils, garbage and refuse lingering underneath the stench of over-recycled air. Bypassing Afterlife, the biotic headed for the markets to one of his many contacts. An elcor shopkeeper had long since been on his retainer.

Upon arriving, the markets were filled with the usual riff-raff. A mix of species only matched by the markets on the Citadel milled about in search of wares to keep themselves alive. The lights and sounds overwhelmed, the smell and taste that lingered in the air was sickening. There was a good reason why Saren rarely visited this place. He felt like he needed to bathe again despite it only having been a handful of hours.

Stepping up to the correct shop, Harrot recognized him without difficulty. His tone was the typical monotonous of his species. “Wary greeting: Spectre Arterius, what a surprise. How may I assist you?”

“I need the following supplies,” Saren told him without preamble as he passed over a datapad with his requests. He felt no need to engage in idle chatter, it was obvious the elcor wanted him gone as soon as possible and he had no reason to stay longer than necessary.

After reading it, Harrot responded as he’d expected. “Fearful: I do not have all of this in stock. It will take time.”

“An omnitool and the best pistol you have, I’ll take first. The rest is to be delivered to the docking bay noted on my order by the end of the cycle.” Saren did not leave room for argument and the elcor didn’t try. This was not their first encounter and it was unlikely to be their last.

Outfitted with finer equipment, Saren set out for the rapid transit hub. It would take too long on foot to get to the armourer and implant specialist he preferred. His senses attuned to the world around him and began to catch glimpses of what he’d missed. Two years was a long time to go dark, too long. Whispers of Collectors, a plague and of some vigilante called Archangel all assaulted his aural canals.

By the time he sat down in the quietude of a private sky-car, he felt overdrawn. Winded almost, with everything he’d learned from a mere hour abroad. The amount of studying the biotic would need to overcome this setback felt like a lead weight settling down over his shoulders. Too much had happened. He’d been gone too long.

Once his destination was set, Saren brought up his new omnitool’s interface with a flick of his wrist to begin setting his preferences: the haptic interface was set for single-handed use and the orange glow was dimmed down to an appropriate setting. The extranet was fast enough with a few tweaks in the coding for him to start downloading some of his contacts and data from the network. After his time dark, he expected some of it to have been pulled down or be corrupted, but enough was there to begin getting a handle on his old life.

Thousands of messages began downloading. Saren closed his eyes against the onslaught, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Those could come later. For the moment, there was only one person he wanted to speak with.

Taking his time, he brought up the search bar and began typing in a name.

_\\\_

_Search Inbox: Garrus Vakarian_

_Returned: 0 results_

_Attempt New Query?_

_\\\_

Saren blinked and reran the search. Nothing came up.

Before the biotic could convince himself otherwise, he sent off a test ping to see if he could at least reach him. Within a few seconds, a failure to send report returned instead. Growling, he tried the Detective’s other address. _Nothing_.

Garrus had deleted himself from the extranet or at the least he’d disabled the simplest ways to contact him. He was gone.

There had been no reason for Garrus to suspect that he’d ever get out of custody. There had never been a hearing or legal procession. From the time he’d been jailed on Council order, he’d disappeared from public view. Curious, Saren pulled up an extranet tab and typed his own name into the search function. Perhaps that would help him begin to understand what he’d missed while he was imprisoned.

_\\\_

_Search Extranet: Saren Arterius Status_

_Returned: 1 345 243 results_

_Top Result: Deceased_

_\\\_

His arm dropped and Saren fell back into the seat, stunned. A cavalcade of emotions boiled underneath the surface and his mind refused to settle on any one in particular. He was angry with the Council, for certain, but it was the feeling of betrayal that roiled in his gut more than anything else. He was imprisoned and legally made out to be deceased. There was no apparent trial, simply a guilty verdict.

Garrus probably believed him dead right along with the rest of the galaxy.

He checked the date of his supposed death and it made him laugh aloud, the sound bitter as it fell from his throat. He’d died _two days after Shepard_. The coincidence was too perfect. Whether the Council had done it then to hide the news under the stories about the human or vice versa, he’d probably never know.

It was possible that information had been part of Garrus’ reasoning for disappearing or perhaps it had solely been Shepard’s death.

Or neither.

Garrus was an intelligent turian. If he hadn’t been, then Saren would never have wasted his time on him in the first place. He wouldn’t have left a comfortable life to disappear into nothingness without cause. He couldn’t have. Nothing in his Hierarchy or C-Sec files pointed to depression or mental instability.

Before he could draw conclusions, Saren was forced back to reality by the familiar pull of deceleration. The taxi’s cheap inertial dampeners didn’t do much to mask the feeling. He closed out the omnitool and schooled his features back to his typical blank expression.

It didn’t matter that inside he warred with himself. He had tasks to accomplish and a timeline to make, Shepard would be waiting for him in a few hours. Research could come later.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  A single droplet of blood fell to the floor.
> 
> It would join the puddle at Saren’s feet, just like all of the others had before it and the few that were still to fall. The pool was a muddy mess of colours, partially dried at the edges for how long he’d been sitting at the table. No one had dared enter the common space. The humans were all too afraid of him, even Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait for Wednesday! Here's chapter 2.
> 
> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Adelitas Way - Last Stand**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWCWoBfHRYw)
> 
> Embedded art by [**Erikaskerzz**](http://erikaskerzz.tumblr.com) (on Tumblr). I love how my boys turned out! Check out her stuff, it's so beautiful.

**Chapter 2 - Faults and Fortitude**

\- - -

Saren tapped one of his new talons against the fresh amp slotted into the back of his skull. His eye twitched with the feeling and already he could feel the spike building behind his eyes. It should have been comforting but instead, it felt off. Like the overpowered piece of tech was wrong for him.

Technically, it wasn’t the same one he’d used before. His own had been a personally modified HMBA model exclusive to the Spectres. This one was two versions newer and a stock model. His own was long confiscated and possibly destroyed.

“Aria told me to keep you out of trouble,” Shepard said mildly as they filed out of the skycar and toward the makeshift headquarters. “Do you two have a history?”

“Hardly,” the biotic stifled a discontented growl. He’d interacted with the ‘Queen’ on a few occasions. They’d exchanged information. She’d tried to kill him. He’d nearly killed her. Their relationship could almost be considered amicable.

Shepard sighed, shaking his head before leading on into the camp. Jack grinned at him before following the other human. Apparently, she found his non-answer amusing.

While Saren fetched supplies, Shepard had been out in search of information on his potential recruits. Initially, their plan was to go after the salarian first, as Cerberus suggested. But when the human spoke with Aria, she informed them of Archangel’s dire situation. The turian vigilante was alone and cornered. If they didn’t act on the freelancing opportunity they’d been afforded, Archangel was as good as dead.

He found it interesting that she knew almost nothing about the vigilante. Nothing got past Aria.

Saren took his time following behind the pair, walking through the makeshift mercenary camp slowly and taking in the gang member ranks and other freelancers as he went. Not a single one of them would present a challenge alone. It would be a numbers game if they put up a fight at all.

He eyed Jack’s continued state of undress for a moment as well, surprised that Shepard hadn’t managed to outfit her with something better. There should have been something on the ship usable for her, but it wasn’t his place to enforce changes. He was under Shepard’s command and would begrudgingly respect the authority he’d earned both for his help with _Sovereign_ and his status as a Council Spectre. Perhaps she was more adept with barriers and the reduction in weight was worth the lack of protection.

Stretching out his new arm, he tested the pull of his biotic aura through the limb. It felt different from the geth arm he’d had before and different again from his real arm before the accident that had taken it. A part of him wondered if the amputation had actually been necessary or if it had been another of _Sovereign’s_ tricks. He banished that train of thought from his mind. It wasn’t productive.

He could only be thankful for the moment that his implant specialist had a few prosthetics in stock in addition to the Spectre grade amp. A matter of hours outfitted him well enough for heavy combat. Later, when he wasn’t standing in squalor, he could improve the basic tools he had. Until then, it would do.

As they waltzed through the hostile territory, Saren noted members from all three of Omega’s gangs were present: Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse. Freelancers milled about too but as he waited for Shepard to speak with the gang leaders, a sniper round downed one human stupid enough to get into the line of fire, reducing their numbers.

Under his helmet, a brow-plate rose. His gaze swung upward to the bridge the infamous Archangel stood vigil on. Another muzzle flash followed a second freelancer falling dead, this one a batarian. Ensuring he kept out of the sniper’s view, Saren walked over to the bodies and crouched behind the barrier. The shots both went through one of the victim’s eyes, the human’s left and the batarian’s lower right.

Anyone else looking at the bodies would have seen clean headshots but Saren knew better. These were off by a few centimetres. Instead of the bullet travelling through the soft tissue to the brain directly, they were halfway through the skull. Archangel was tiring, as could be expected if the rumours were true and he’d actually been in the nest for three days.

An awful thought passed through his mind: _‘What if the Archangel was Garrus?’_

Despite the blue armour and the sniper rifle he carried, despite being a turian, there was no further physical evidence to imply that Garrus was Archangel. Circumstantially, however, Archangel appeared about over a year ago, just after Garrus was said to have disappeared. He was a vigilante, seeking justice and not credits. Gritting his teeth, Saren shoved the thought deep down in his mind.

This was no time for hope.

Standing, he made his way back to Shepard and Jack. When he halted, he adjusted the shoulder gauntlet of his new armour. The material was chafing against the rim of his cowl and along the back of his right spur. Jack looked at him curiously but said nothing. Neither of them had commented on the new gear beyond Shepard giving him a nod of approval.

It wasn’t standard nor remotely similar to his old gear. A part of him wanted to distance himself from his old life, his life under _Sovereign_ and the Council. As such, a new look was warranted.

The medium-weight armour was mainly dark grey and form-fitted, his under-suit was black beneath it. Around his torso and arms, black bands wound as more of a fashion statement than for any true purpose, eventually he decided he might modify them to lace in biotic amplifiers but there was no time for the moment. Both the forearm bracers and gauntlets were chrome, disguising his prosthetic arm. The chrome boot came up to his knees, protecting his spurs. Finishing off the look was a black cloak and helmet.

Once Shepard finished his research, they made their way to Cathka as directed by the recruiter. Inside the garage-like room, a single batarian in Blue Suns’ armour was working on a gunship. While he and Jack stood back, Shepard spoke with him and discussed the plan of attack. Cathka was blunt and arrogant. He spoke without grace.

Batarians were the only species Saren hated more than humans.

As Shepard and Jack turned to leave, Saren’s eyes fell on an electrified spanner. An idea forming in his mind. It would be easier to dispatch the gangs if their gunship wasn’t in good repair. A mandible flicked beneath his helmet in consideration, there wasn’t time to destroy the gunship now without outing themselves but there was time to remove the mechanic.

Swiping the tool, Saren rammed it into the back of the batarian’s neck, killing him in an instant. There was barely a shout before he slumped to the floor.

When Saren stepped away, he felt the humans’ eyes on him. Jack had a feral grin on his face, looking more turian than human. Shepard’s mouth had quirked to the side in begrudging approval.

“Next time,” he warned. “You tell me first.”

Saren flicked his crest in acknowledgment as he passed the humans on his way out. It was time to test his new gear and stretch his abilities after too long asleep. Beneath his darkened visor he grinned. For the first time since waking, he felt alive.

Fighting across the bridge was a simple matter.

Ahead of them, freelancers took the brunt of Archangel’s attack when they ran forward. Taking the rear meant that Saren, Shepard and Jack could take a few of them out before anyone noticed they’d changed sides. A bloodbath began on the metal tiles, slickening the surface in all sorts of colours. Mercenaries who weren’t careful enough plunged to their deaths. The rest fell to bullets and biotics before they knew what hit them.

The sniper seemed to understand the shifting tide, as when a shot impacted Shepard’s chest it only took down his shields and shoved him back a few paces. A concussive round instead of armour piercing. A few moments later, a second shot came down this time at Saren. His barrier absorbed it and the biotic used the momentum to roll to cover.

“They’re with Arch-” the human’s last words were cut off with a gurgle of blood, a sniper round straight through his throat silenced him.

They pushed forward.

Once inside the base, the rhythmic sound of bullets continued above them. The trio cleared the first floor quickly and not a soul was left alive by the time they finished clearing the room. While Jack began looting thermal clips from the corpses, Shepard and Saren were drawn to a set of tarps laid out over bodies.

The human knelt down beside one, lifting the corner to see yet another corpse. Yet this one was different from the rest, an asari in custom armour. Through the violet blood on her arm, a golden bird-like symbol was visible. “She’s one of his,” Shepard said.

Saren hummed in agreement, his gaze sliding across the rest of the bodies. “Those too.”

“Aria was right, the gangs got his team.”

“Shit…” Jack appeared at his side, her nose wrinkling against the decaying scent as she slotted a new thermal clip into her pistol. “They really fucked them up.”

“Let’s make sure they don’t get Archangel too,” Shepard pulled back, replacing the tarp with care. Someone had taken the time to be respectful to these bodies, unlike the mercenaries that laid dead outside. “With me.”

One more glance across the tarps and Saren followed the humans once again. He didn’t feel remorse for the dead, taking on Omega’s gangs was a dangerous endeavour. It was impressive they survived as long as they did. He could, however, understand the sentiment and respected that Archangel had taken the time to care for his dead team like any good Hierarchy commander would endeavour to do.

At the top of the stairs, there were two mercenaries that somehow managed to sneak past the rest and get ahead of them. It didn’t matter. Soon they would be dispatched like the rest of their ilk and the question burning at the back of Saren’s mind could finally be answered. The closer they got to Archangel, the more he expected Garrus to be waiting for him.

Again, he squashed the hope. He needed to focus.

Pulling his hand through the mnemonic movement for a throw, the two humans flew through the air and over the balcony. Without waiting for a command, Saren followed them down and put a bullet through each of their skulls. ‘ _Fledgling’s play…’_

Above him, Jack was grinning like a madwoman as she looked down at him with her elbows resting over the railing. “Finally! Someone who can keep up.”

Behind her, Shepard sighed and started hacking his way through the door. It opened in only a few seconds and he called down. “Keep the room clear. It’s time I met Archangel.”

Saren flicked his crest in acknowledgment before clearing the room a second time and making his way back up the stairs. It felt good to be in battle again, stretching his muscles and his biotic abilities. Being part of a team was an… odd feeling. It had been a very long time since he’d taken orders from anyone other than the Council.

Shepard may be human, but he was a Council Spectre. The Operative who’d made it possible for Garrus to talk him down all those months… or he supposed years ago now. He deserved a moniker of respect for that, despite his general dislike for the man.

Moving light on his feet as he ascended the staircase, he was thankful that his new armour seemed to be settling well over his hide. Though there were some adjustments that still needed to be made, an hour or two at a workbench would have it properly customized for fit, if not quite for all the tactical modifications he wanted.

“Archangel!” Shepard called out. There was no immediate reply.

Instead, from the bridge, there was a single shot fired, followed by a scream as one more idiotic mercenary fell to their knees. Archangel was a brilliant sniper considering he’d been in the nest for days. He had to be on stims and was probably well past the safe limit for their use.

Personally, Saren dabbled in chemical stimulants only as necessary. His record without them was around thirty-six useful hours. With them, it was closer to fifty-seven. Not that he’d ever been in a situation to test them past that but without difficulty, he could recall the pain that had followed. He’d been down for days, his joints aching and his mind unable to focus on even the smallest of tasks.

Archangel wouldn’t be of any use for at least a week after this fight.

Beyond the doors, the sound of boots scraping across the floor met him. Metal creaked and shifted before Archangel replied to the Spectre. “Shepard… I thought you were dead.”

He knew that voice. _Garrus._

Without meaning to, Saren stuttered to a halt, his hand reaching out for the railing to steady himself. He could hear the exhaustion laced through the younger turian’s second voice, unhindered by attempts to hide it. With humans, there was no reason for deception. Though considering the rough edge to it, he might not have been able to hide it if he tried.

“Garrus!” Shepard laughed. His voice was bright, the polar opposite to the turian’s. The stark difference was grating. “What are you doing here?”

The sniper huffed a tired response. “Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice.”

Saren couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t allow it. His feet felt like lead weights in his boots, his shitty standardized prosthetic was like a vice grip attached to the railing. He should be in there, seeing Garrus with his own two eyes instead of hiding in the hallway like… like a coward. His suspicions proved correct, yet he was still in shock.

Instead, it was the Spectre that asked: “You okay?”

“Been better,” Garrus dodged the question.

It should have been him asking because then Garrus wouldn’t have been able to lie. Shepard couldn’t hear the entire answer. It wasn’t possible for a human to understand the sheer depth of pain in Garrus’ voice. It shouldn’t have gone unattended to. And Saren knew he was a coward and a poor excuse for a partner for not attending to it himself.

The two of them talked for a handful of minutes. The words themselves were mostly lost to Saren as he was too caught up listening for everything that went unheard by the humans.

Betrayal, confusion, heartache.

This turian had saved him from certain death, he’d helped Shepard defeat the geth and save the Council. Yet, here he was now, alone and abandoned in a dilapidated apartment building with the bodies of his squad rotting under tarpaulins around him. Still, Saren couldn’t force himself to go in.

 **“** How’d you let yourself get into this position?”

An anguished keen was quickly stifled. “Nothing new,” he said, voice bitter and so unlike the optimistic tone he remembered. “I let my feelings get in the way of my better judgement. I didn’t learn from my mistake.”

_My mistake._

The words felt like a shot to the gut. Saren turned away from the door, his hand finally releasing the, now dented, railing. His spine remained ramrod straight, mandibles pulled into his jaw so hard that it hurt. Alone in the hallway, his emotions could run a little rampant.

Saren wished the fighting would start again, just so that he’d have something to kill. Garrus thought they had been a mistake. Garrus had _saved_ him. The rage he felt in that moment was immense, so much so that his biotics sparked into the open air as he started for the stairs.

 _“If we fight as a team, we’ll hold them off,”_ Shepard said as he hooked Garrus into their comm system. Saren muted his own mic and descended to the first level as the sniper went over their plan of attack.

By the sound of it, both he and Shepard took a look across the bridge. Eclipse mercenaries were about to come at them. _“You… you can do what you do best.”_

Though the words were meant for Shepard, Saren planned to do just that.

As the first wave of mechs and mercenaries started coming across the bridge, the ex-Spectre let loose. Great arcs of biotic energy flew from his body towards the enemy and he cut them down in great swaths.

Absently, he was aware of the rest. Shepard and Jack had joined him on the lower level and were working in tandem with him. When one needed cover to recharge, the others would come out to take over. The Spectre used his team effectively, speaking into the comm unit calmly to relay instructions to Jack and Garrus. They fell in line. Though, it did not escape his notice that Shepard didn’t dare attempt to corral him for the moment, knowing better than to try.

By the time a heavy mech appeared from behind the barricade, the enemy was waning to an end. Shepard hadn’t really needed to waste time frying the mech’s friend or foe system earlier, between him and the tattooed powerhouse, it would have been a pile of smoking and melted metal before long regardless.

Still, it was easier this way and a single bullet through the salarian leader’s skull from Garrus’ rifle ended the fight.

Saren could feel his amp getting too warm at the base of his skull but ignored it as he followed the Spectre back up the stairs. Jack stayed on the lower level, collecting heat sinks and raiding bodies. Not that the ex-Spectre thought she’d find anything particularly useful on them, but it kept her busy and out of the way.

Now, with his head a little clearer and more time on their hands, he wanted to see Garrus for himself. Something he didn’t need nor want an audience for. At the top of the stairs, Shepard stopped and turned toward him. His hand rose to his comm unit and he flicked it off so they could speak privately. “You should wait outside.”

Saren was glad for his tinted visor, it meant that Shepard didn’t see the way his mandibles moved into a soundless snarl. “That is not your decision.”

“Right now, it is.” Shepard glared up at him, his mouth a hard set line. This wasn’t the first time they’d stood toe-to-toe with one another. Only this time, they were on the same side in methodology as well as ideology. “Let’s start by getting him out of here alive, then you can talk.”

As much as it pained him to work for the human, if he was going to do it then he was going to do it right. Saren flicked his crest and took a step back.

The Spectre gave him a sharp nod and turned on his heel to head back into the sniper’s perch. After a moment, chatter began to fill the quiet again. This time it was piped in through the speakers in his helm and it was even easier to hear Garus’ subvocals.

He hated it.

Hearing about the past few months, his work here on Omega. Saren abhorred every second of it. While he’d been frozen, the galaxy had moved on without him. The Council that he’d sworn himself to didn’t care. Garrus moved on. He scoffed to himself, annoyed that he couldn’t run his hands through the blades of his fringe with his helmet on as he paced the hallway.

He also hated how riled up he was getting. It didn’t suit him.

An explosion from beneath their feet snapped Saren back to attention and the world around him. His rifle was raised and aimed at the stairs as Jack came sprinting up. Alarms started blaring.

She skidded to a halt beside him. “What the fuck was that?”

“More fodder,” he inclined his head towards the other end of the hall. It was time to regroup. Jack led the way towards the sniper’s nest, a grin plastered to her cheeks and her hands already sparking blue in anticipation of the fight ahead. Grouping together made more sense until they knew what they were up against. This wasn’t the same tactic as before, they needed more intel.

“Damn it,” Garrus swore, looking up briefly as they entered before turning his gaze back toward Shepard. “They breached the lower level.”

The Spectre glanced over his shoulder too, eyes narrowing as Saren walked in. Tactically speaking, it was the best move… though it was understandable that he wasn’t pleased about it. Shepard had told the biotic to wait in the hall.

Saren let his training fall to the wayside for a moment. Instead of taking in the room, the right side lined with beds and the rest appeared to be a ruined barrack common area, he focused on his old partner for a moment first. Taking in the exhausted line of his shoulders, the lacklustre sheen of his face-plates and… he swallowed down the feeling of sick in the back of his throat as he laid eyes on the healed-over scar that ran vertically along his right cheek, bisecting the cobalt colony paint under his eye. It was the wound he’d inflicted the last time they’d seen one another. The day _Sovereign_ was defeated and his head went silent.

The moment Saren nearly killed him.

The biotic’s anger shifted targets, his throat felt too dry and his voice brittle. It was agonizing not to close the distance between them. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. He’d never felt guilt as he did now.

A curious expression flitted over the sniper’s features for a moment before he schooled his mandibles back to seriousness. From watching the bridge, he would have known that the black and chrome armoured turian was part of the human’s team. He must have his suspicions… there weren’t many turian biotics and even fewer of them outside the cabals.

It surprised even himself that he was working for Shepard. How much of a shock would it be for Garrus to learn that after two years, both his best friend and his once lover were not only alive but here to save him? It almost made Saren regret entering the room. _Almost._

Garrus’ free hand rose to slide through the spines of his fringe. “Well, they had to use their brains eventually.” When his hand reached the end, he looked up and there was a renewed expression on his face. A strange sort of determination in the set of his mandibles and in how his voice took on a tone of command. Garrus was giving orders. That was new. “You’d better get down there, Shepard. I’ll keep the bridge clear.”

The human shook his head. Whether he saw the change or not, Saren didn’t know. “Let’s split up two and two – keep one of my team up here.”

Now was the time to strike, while Garrus was strong. Otherwise, he felt he’d have to wait until they returned to the _Normandy_ and Saren didn’t think he could wait that long. If Garrus was to be thrown off balance it needed to happen now. It might spark additional wakefulness in him.

“That’s unnecessary,” Saren said, keeping his tone even and flat. “I’ll go alone.”

Saren’s helmet was still in place, yet his voice was unchanged. By looking at the ex-Detective, he knew that it was recognized. Garrus’ subvocals cut out, his shoulders tightened back and his hands loosened around the stock of his rifle. His mouth opened to say something, yet no sound came out.

“Jack, go with Saren,” Shepard ordered before Saren could argue.

The tattooed woman’s eyebrow was raised as she looked between the three of them. She knew there was something missing, something she didn’t understand and was somehow smart enough to keep her mouth shut about it for the moment. “Right… yeah. Sure.” She cracked her neck as she walked towards him and the door, sighing at the relief it brought. “As long as I’m killing shit, I don’t care where.”

Again, Saren flicked his crest in acknowledgment and he turned away to follow Jack out. He could have dealt with whatever the vorcha and krogan below the surface had to throw at him alone, though it would be easier with two biotics. Quicker too.

Seeing Garrus again, watching his expression shift… there had been something there. Maybe he would realize that the relationship hadn’t been the mistake he thought it was.

He needed to get back to him as soon as possible.

When help had arrived, Garrus’ defences lowered. Not through any fault of his own, it was simply second nature to take relief when it was given. Garrus’ shots hadn’t been perfect when they’d showed up and his control was slipping as time went on. The kill shot on Jaroth had been effective, but sloppy. Speaking up and letting Garrus hear his voice had been a tactical move: it raised the sniper’s guard.

The sooner the shutters were closed, the sooner he could get him out of this foul place.

Once they were well out of earshot and below the apartment, Jack couldn’t keep her questions to herself any longer. “So… you two have a history or something?”

Saren growled to himself beneath his helmet, half in annoyance and half at the fact there was a history to explain at all. The human had been helpful in battle, showed considerable skill with her biotics and despite how unrefined she was, she had a lot more tact than most people he’d met.

“Something like that,” he said as he threw a set of mercs out of cover before shooting them with his high powered pistol. The three successive rounds killed them without trouble.

Jack scoffed. “Right.”

A shockwave burst outward from her hands as they made their way forward through what felt like a warehouse. Varren and vocha were crawling all over it. Between their combined biotic efforts, it was simple to make their way across the room. His fist slammed into the shutter control, bringing the gate down on a poorly placed krogan, it was crushed beneath the weight of the steel.

As they began a light jog towards the other end of the basement, Saren’s cloak floating in the breeze behind him, Jack brought up the topic again. “You suggested it wasn’t Shepard that brought you down.” A vorcha came tearing out of cover, flamethrower in hand. Jack smashed his face in with a well-placed biotic punch before casually continuing the conversation. “Was it him?”

Saren nailed a shot right through a krogan's right eye, half-blinding it and making it swing its arms wildly. He put it down with a well-placed warp before answering the question with one of his own. “Why do you care?”

Together they continued toward the next shutter. Skidding to a halt beside one another behind a half wall as they waited for a pair of vorcha to run dry of ammo. Saren glanced over at the human, she had a feral grin on her face even as her chest rose and fell rapidly with the excursion. The expression appeared at home.

Jack looked back at him and shrugged. “Curiosity, mainly. Plus… if he is, then he’s probably off the market right?”

Saren was very glad that his helmet was still firmly in place over his face. Beneath it, his jaw had gone loose and his brow-plate had lowered over his eyes. _That_ had been the last thing he expected. The rumble of shock must have rolled through loud enough because Jack laughed.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Blinking a handful of times, he got himself back under control long enough to gracefully spin out of cover to take down another krogan mercenary. _‘Am I that obvious?_ ’ he questioned himself as they moved again, breaking cover and charging together across the tighter space.

By the time the second shutter was closed, the battle sounded like it was going poorly upstairs. More krogan had come over the bridge, they were getting overrun.

 _“Get back here, Saren. They’re coming in through the doors!”_ Shepard called down through the comm unit.

Saren hummed a note of understanding and finished off the last varren in the underground by throwing it across the room, breaking its neck with a sickening crunch.

“Hold your horses,” Jack snarled into the comm as she charged the last vorcha, impacting its face with a balled fist. It fell to the ground, never to rise again. “We’re fucking coming, alright?”

She glanced toward Saren and he jerked his head toward the door, signalling it was time to leave. Both were partially winded, though showed no signs of slowing. Saren was admittedly impressed at how well Jack kept up.

Reaching the main floor, they were not alone. Carnage surrounded them. Dozens of mercs were strewn about from earlier and it continued to worsen. In front of the building, Shepard was pressed behind cover, taking potshots at the mercs as often as he could as he tried to divert their attention from Garrus.

The krogan Saren recognized as Garm, had already managed to get to the base of the stairs. As he charged up them, he yelled to his vorcha: “Watch my back. I’ll deal with Archangel!”

There were too many mercs and Saren couldn’t get past them fast enough. Panic unlike any he could recall settled under his carapace. Both he and Jack were swiftly approaching the point of overexertion, the human a little quicker than himself. He ducked back in cover to reload his pistol, growling his frustration out loud.

 **_“_** _Garm’s got me pinned down,”_ Garrus grunted as though he was moving quickly. _“I need help with this guy, Shepard!”_

Saren felt his blood turn cold.

There was a loud clatter, like a gun falling to the ground. Garm bellowed a war-cry and his charging footsteps could be heard going from one end of the room to the other. Without regard for the vorcha, Saren tore himself out of cover and sprinted for the stairs. Reaching them, he took them three at a time. Shots pinged off his shield, lowering it to half before Jack pulled their attention back toward herself. She shouted something at his back that he didn’t hear.

He was halfway down the hall when Garrus yelled something unintelligible and cried out in pain. Unadulterated rage filled Saren so swiftly that his vision seemed to blue-over. Before he was even aware of his actions, Saren had used his biotics to tear Garm off of Garrus and throw him across the room like a fledgling’s toy.

Garm impacted the opposing wall hard enough to crumble some of the concrete, dust surrounded him as he fell to the ground, face-first. Saren moved between his partner and the stunned krogan, breathing hard enough for his heaving breaths to be visible through the armour as his shoulders rose and fell.

It took a few moments before Garm attempted to stand. The first time, he fell right back down to the floor. His secondary nervous system was taking time to kick in, Saren’s blow must have severed something in his spine. After a moment, he stupidly tried again and managed to stand on wavering legs. Krogan rarely surrendered and this one’s idiotic sense of pride wouldn’t keep him alive.

The biotic wasted no time stalking the space between them, he pulled at the clasps of his helmet, tearing it off and letting it fall to the ground. He wanted the krogan to see his expression as he perished. With his prosthetic arm and a biotic assist, he slammed Garm back into the wall with a powerful wave of blue energy. The mercenary’s skull cracked against the wall and he sputtered, blood frothing from his mouth, unable to form words.

 _“Archangel’s mine,”_ Saren snarled.

His nasal plates twitched with his rage, scenting the air around him. His mandibles flared out from his face in menace. Pulling at the spiking energy behind his eyes, the biotic’s real hand moved through a mnemonic he’d only used a few times before. He cut his talons through the air and watched as the panicked expression on Garm’s face turned to terror and then agony.

The sound of metal and then flesh ripping apart was sickening and only drowned out by the male’s final scream. Two wet thumps met the floor when he was finished, other than his continued menacing growl the room went silent and still. Saren’s chest heaved from the effort and the back of his skull felt like it was on fire.

Movement in the biotic’s periphery had him turning toward it, another vicious growl threatening whoever dared challenge him. Even as blood trickled down from his nose, he was prepared to use another biotic blast if need be. He was prepared to overload his amp.

What he found instead of enemies was the pair of human friendlies. Shepard and Jack had made it up to the second level. He willed himself to relax a fraction and tried to refocus his gaze from the blue haze. He ignored the burning sensation along the base of his skull.

“Saren?” Shepard’s hands were raised, his assault rifle held in one hand and pointed toward the ceiling to demonstrate he wasn’t an immediate threat.

The ex-Spectre straightened from his battle-ready stance. Raising a hand to wipe some of the orangey-grey gore of krogan viscera off his face. His nose twitched against Omega’s stale air as he lowered his shoulders and moved to fetch his helmet. He flattened it and then attached the armour to its storage place on his thigh.

A few beats passed between them. The threat was gone for the moment. The room silent. It was the human biotic who broke the tension as she moved, walking toward the dead body. Her hands rested on her hips, her pistol attached to her belt. She leaned over the corpse.

“Holy shit! You’ve gotta show me how you did that!” Jack looked up at him, her eyes alight as she surveyed the damage he’d done, the gore covering the floor and the walls. She whistled and he had to fight the urge to flinch away from the high pitched sound. The sound aggravated a headache that had started to work its way up from his amp. It was a dull throb for the moment and he pushed the feeling away to deal with later.

Saren declined to reply.

Instead, he wiped the trail of cobalt away from his nose with the back of his cleaner hand and he turned towards the sniper’s perch. One of the bunks had been knocked over, a couch had been twisted on its base. Garrus’ rifle lay in the middle of the aisle, forgotten.

Without the helmet, it was easy to hear the scraping noise of metal against metal as the sniper began to pick himself up off the floor. His voice was a ruin of exhaustion and pain, a sharp intake of breath followed behind a groan. Before Saren knew what he was doing, he’d closed the distance between them and reached out to offer him a hand the rest of the way up.

Garrus took it.

Once he was on his feet, Saren directed him back a pace to lean on the back of the askew couch. One of his hands move to rest on Garrus’ keel and the other remained tight around his forearm. Saren fully expected Garrus to pull away. He didn’t.

Instead, Garrus just stood there and stared at him. His mouth slightly open as he caught his breath, his eyes were hazy even behind the blue of his visor. There was no real expression on his plates, his voice had gone silent of everything, even pain. Looking at him now, Saren had no idea what was going on in his mind. He couldn’t possibly imagine what lay in wait behind this turian who’d aged two years as fast as a fire burned through desert brambles.

Why Saren had expected to see the idealistic young cop gazing back at him, he wasn’t sure. Why he wished for the sleep-muzzied look of Garrus after their night on Noveria… or even the pleading subvocal tones he’d heard on Virmire… he didn’t know.

All he did know was that this wasn’t _his_ Garrus. He’d changed.

Absently, Saren was aware that Shepard had excused himself and pulled Jack out of the room with him. They were alone. Or as alone as they could be with the bodies of Garrus’ enemies and allies surrounding them.

Saren’s chest rose and fell as he continued to slowly come down from the exertion. He could see Garrus doing the same, though there was a wheeze in his breath that spoke of cracked plates beneath his armour. He dropped Garrus’ arm and the male let it fall limply to his side. The weight of his armour sat too heavy on his shoulders.

Without thinking, Saren brought his free hand up and went to touch the sniper’s face.

Garrus flinched away. The spell was broken.

The biotic’s mandibles pulled into his jaw as the younger turian stumbled away from him. A bloodied handprint left on his chestplate. He was barely able to stay on his feet alone. To think he’d rather fall than stay in contact with him hurt more than Saren was willing to admit. He thought he’d long since locked emotions like this away. As a Spectre, they were useless, a hindrance.

Before either of them could say a word to one another, the sound of engines hit. From the level below, Jack yelled out a warning, “Watch it!” Saren didn’t have time to replace his helmet, instead, he brandished his rifle at the sound of breaking glass, the Blue Suns were all that remained. He and Garrus could talk when this was over.

Without needing to look at one another, Garrus and Saren instantly fell in line. They’d never fought side-by-side before and only against each other twice. Yet, somehow, they found a way to work as a unit. Hierarchy training ran deep within the turian psyche and now was the perfect time for it to rear its pristine head.

The gunship wheeled around the front of the building after offloading its troops.

“Damn it! “ Garrus swore over the battle din. “I thought I had taken that thing out already!”

Saren wanted to reassure him but Shepard beat him to it. “Not completely!”

His decision to kill off the Blue Sun’s mechanic proved to be worthwhile. However, it didn’t help them with the sheer number of troops that the Suns had brought with them. They were by far the largest force, which was surprising considering how the Blood Pack used vorcha like fodder.

As they fought on two fronts, Shepard and Jack on the lower level, Saren and Garrus on the upper, they were all brought to the point of exhaustion. The fight was nearly over, the apartment was just about empty. Had it not been for the gunship, they’d have been in the clear.

 _“Archangel!”_ It was Tarak over the gunship’s loudspeaker. He’d apparently come to finish the fight himself… but just like all the other gang leaders, the batarian would die too. Saren paid him no mind as he finished off a human engineer that was stupid enough to get in range of his talons.

The resonating boom of two concussive shots impacting glass met his aural canals before a barrage of bullets came at the building. Saren turned towards the aircraft just in time to watch the hailstorm hit Garrus square in the chest, shattering his shields. He fell to the ground with a loud gasp of pain and scrambled for cover on instinct alone.

 _“You think you can screw with the Blue Suns!”_ Tarak let loose another clip of ammunition, this time forcing Saren back into cover to avoid getting hit as Garrus had. His shields needed time to recover, a few more seconds and he’d be back in the fight. _“This ends now!”_

At the edge of his vision, he watched on in abject horror as Garrus forced himself up and out of cover. His shields had not recovered. His rifle rose to his eye and he let loose another bullet in the split-second before Tarak hit the heavy ammunition.

Saren threw out a biotic barrier, but it was too late. The wave of blue energy did nothing to stop the rocket from tearing a scream from Garrus’ throat. It did nothing to stop the spray of cobalt or the smell of charred hide and plate. He couldn’t protect the sniper from crashing to the ground in a heap.

It did nothing at all.

“Garrus!”

Saren wasn’t even aware that it was his own voice that yelled his lover’s name. He wasn’t aware of how terrifying he became as he leapt out of cover and charged the gunship, leaping from the second floor to cling to the edge of the gunship's broken windshield. Nor of how he appeared to be a reaper risen from the ashes of the spirit realm as his blue-lit form tore through the windshield remains and ripped out Tarak’s four, fear-widened eyes with bared talons. Tarak was dead in an instant, better than he deserved. The batarian slumped against the controls and Saren leapt, pushing his amp one more time to get himself back to the second floor.

He didn’t come back to himself until he shoved Shepard away from Garrus’ still form.

Saren’s mouth was agape, his mandible loose and hanging from his jaw, his eyes wide as he searched for the source of the blood -a trying task as there was so much. The metal tile was slippery with cobalt. Vaguely, he was aware of Jack on the comms, requesting evac, and of Shepard using the medigel dispensing system in Garrus’ armour to stem the flow. But all he saw was cobalt.

A wet gasp falling from Garrus’ broken mouth brought Saren back to reality. His eyes were opened to slits, unseeing of the world around him.

The sniper tried to grab his rifle.

Saren pushed it into his hand. But instead of wrapping his fingers around it, he kept trying to grab for something else. Had Shepard not been there, Saren would likely have never understood that Garrus was grabbing for _him_ , not the gun.

The Spectre pushed the sniper rifle out of the way and grabbed Saren’s hand, pulling it into Garrus’ reach. Saren’s talons shook as he wrapped his fingers around Garrus’. The sniper’s grip was so weak.

“Keep him awake,” Shepard ordered.

His eyes snapped from the human’s back down to Garrus’ face in time to see him fading out. Garrus was dying in front of his eyes. His nightmare from last night was becoming a reality. Without letting go of his hand, Saren tore the packs of medigel off his belt and passed them to Shepard.

He couldn’t speak aloud, his vocal chords wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, he spoke volumes with his subvocals. His chest resonating with every emotion he could muster; encouragement and adoration and possessiveness. Garrus wasn’t allowed to die. He couldn’t. Saren would go to the Spirits themselves and pry him from their ethereal talons himself if he had to.

Time passed by without his notice.

Saren barely acknowledged the shuttle appearing at the edge of the balcony, nor the faces of the crew who brought a stretcher. The Doctor was among them and that was the only reason he allowed Jack and Shepard to pull him away from Garrus’ side. His talons slid through the sniper’s limp fingers and the burning sensation at the back of his skull started to intensify.

The shuttle floor quickly became stained with blood, it seemed to keep coming no matter what the Doctor did to stem it. His nasal plates twitched with the coppery smell, filling his nose and overwhelming his senses. As the aircraft swayed, he grabbed a handhold to remain on his feet.

On the _Normandy_ , he was forced to let Garrus out of his sight. Shepard grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from getting into the elevator. He snarled, turning on the human and shoving his hand away. Though Shepard tensed, he did not back down.

“Let Chakwas work, Saren.”

He couldn’t fathom an answer. Instead, he growled and nodded.

When the elevator returned he rode it upward to the crew deck, following the dotted trail of blood to the medical bay’s door. The lock was red. He moved to the windows. They were blacked out. He snarled again and paced the length of the room. The human who’d been standing in the kitchen quickly vacated the space and left him alone to stew.

Saren paced until he wore himself out. Only then did he sit down at the table, in the chair closest to the medical bay’s door. There he would wait.

+-+-+-+

A single droplet of blood fell to the floor.

It would join the puddle at Saren’s feet, just like all of the others had before it and the few that were still to fall. The pool was a muddy mess of colours, partially dried at the edges for how long he’d been sitting at the table. No one had dared enter the common space. The humans were all too afraid of him, even Shepard.

Saren’s elbows rested on his knees, his back bowed and crest tilted down towards the floor. He hadn’t moved in well over an hour. He couldn’t. Not until he knew the outcome from behind the medical bay’s closed doors. His armour was stained with dried residue from dozens of mercenaries in all colours. Though, the most brilliant colour was cobalt.

The scent of it still filled his nose. Or by now that could have been his own blood. His nose had begun bleeding sluggishly again. It refused to clot. Another droplet slid down his face, teetering from his bottom jaw for a moment before it too joined the puddle.

He should have gone to clean up. The outcome would not change whether he was sitting here or standing in the shower or sleeping off the effects of overloading his amp. Somehow, it felt wrong to leave. He refused.

The burning sensation at the back of his skull had died down to a manageable ache. No doubt some of that was thanks to the drugs his armour was pumping into his system. In the field it wouldn’t do to be weighed down by pain He usually worked alone and had no one to rely on. The fact he could still feel it at all meant he’d really fucked up.

Just as cleaning up could wait, so could dealing with the amp.

Footsteps from the direction of the elevator pulled Saren out of his own head. He scented the air and recognized it to be Jack without looking up. Her boots dragged across the floor as though she was too lazy or too tired to bring her feet up off the metal deck. The dragging sound annoyed him more than it should have.

She didn’t address him. Instead, the biotic headed for the kitchen. It was understandable, considering how hard she’d fought against the mercenaries earlier that she’d be starved. He himself could feel a pang of hunger deep in his gut. But, like the rest of his self-care, it could wait until he knew whether or not Garrus would live.

At the last update the AI had given him, the odds had been proclaimed to be poor. It made him feel sick to his stomach. His gut roiled with guilt. It wasn’t an emotion he often felt. If he’d just been faster….

A split-second before something impacted his head, Saren realized Jack had thrown something at him. He jerked away, his biotics weakly flaring and creating a barrier that stopped the object. It fell to the floor and his eyes flashed from Jack down to see that it was just a meal replacement bar. When he looked up, he growled and removed his hand from his pistol.

“I saiiidddd…” Jack was shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him again. One of her hips was cocked to the side and her hand rested on it. “Did you eat something yet?” She sighed, walking towards him and bending down to pick up the protein bar she’d thrown. She held it out, shaking it a little in the air as though it would tempt him toward it, like an animal.

When he merely blinked at her, she stepped around the puddle and placed the meal replacement down on the table next to him. Her mouth quirked to the side as she watched his face. “Want that amp out?”

“How…” he began before she scoffed at him.

“Your fucking head was smoking. I know a burned out amp when I see it,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes again.“You want it out or not?”

Saren ground his teeth together for a second before he nodded once and turned in the chair to give her access to the port at the base of his skull. It took far more trust than he should have been willing to give to allow her access to his port. The slot was delicate and private. Still, he wrapped his hands around the edge of the metal chair in preparation for pain.

She drew in a sharp breath as she surveyed the damage. “This is gonna hurt, birdy. Hang on to something.”

He let another growl out, not-so-subtly telling her to get on with it. “I am aware.”

“Fuck, it’s like… melted to your plates.” She made a sound of disgust as she started wiggling the useless tech out of its port. One hand pushed down on his shoulder guard while the other worked the amp out. Her fingers were bare and cool against his overheated hide. He chose to focus on that instead of the agony she was putting him through. “Almost… there!”

A dull thump brought Saren back to himself with a great gasp for air. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath against the pain. Jack dropped the blackened amp down on the table beside the protein bar.

“Not going to be using that one again,” she told him as she headed back towards the elevator and left Saren alone in the mess hall. He could have sworn she grumbled something about him being an idiot but her voice was too quiet for him to make out.

She hadn’t waited to be thanked, not that Saren thought he would have. He did grab for the ration bar as he forced himself to his feet. Tearing into it, he went for the room he’d claimed as his own. He was no good to Garrus like this.

“AI, tell me when the Doctor is finished.”

_“Of course, Arterius. Logging you out.”_

\---

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  “Garrus.”
> 
> The sniper did not react overtly and had Saren not been watching, he would have missed the stutter his talons made in his line of... code? possibly. Garrus’ thumb shifted to the backspace key and then he rewrote the line. When he finished, his hand shifted to the cursor and he saved the work. 
> 
> Saren’s breath caught in his throat as Garrus’ eyes shifted up from the console to look at him out of his periphery. The bandaging may have hidden the worst of the damage but it did nothing to hide the heat in his gaze. Saren’s tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth to stop himself from grinding his teeth or clenching his mandibles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Collapsing - Demon Hunter**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhtwUk3QagQ)

**Faults and Fortitude - 3**

\- - -

The weight of absolute exhaustion was not Karin Chakwas' favourite thing in the galaxy, not even in the slightest. Dropping down into her desk-chair, she let out a long sigh as she ran her tired fingers through the tousled mess of short, grey hair atop her head. She much preferred sitting in the lounge, watching the stars out the ship’s viewport with a good book and a warmed glass of brandy in her palm. There was something to be said about a quiet life for a military doctor. It meant your people were alive and well.

Although, Karin had to admit there was something satisfying about her job. Each and every time she _needed_ to work herself to exhaustion, she saved a life. Today, that life was Garrus Vakarian’s. Closing her eyes, the doctor slid her hand down to the back of her neck to rub at the tight muscles there. The surgery had taken hours and it was nearing the end of the night cycle.

Glancing toward her patient, her mouth tightened into a stiff line. The work wasn’t her prettiest, not by a long stretch. Cerberus didn’t carry nearly enough of the tools she’d have needed to do an artist’s job on his plates. Cosmetics would have to come later, after healing. It was a pity. Garrus had been quite the handsome turian when she’d first met him. Now, he was a mess of burns and scar tissue, expanding from his face down through his neck and shoulder.

Keeping him alive and functional had been her goal. As long as the turian survived the night, she’d consider him in the clear. The secondary prerogative of functional would have to be determined later on. When he woke up. _If_ he woke up.

Karin turned on her computer screen, scanning the graphs to check Garrus’ vitals. He was sleeping unaided now, the sedatives having been weaned off as she’d finished up her work. Given a couple hours, he should wake on his own. He’d be in a lot of pain, but that was to be expected. Nearly half his face had been burned off by the rocket and she’d ordered more supplies but they couldn’t be delivered until they docked back on Omega. Shepard had ordered them away from the station for security purposes.

Her fingers fell to the haptic keyboard and she began to type out a few notes for her report. The final product could be done after she slept but the time spent typing would help her wind down for the night.

A short time later the sound of the door opening alerted Karin to a guest. The doctor let out a small hum and turned her head toward the noise. Her eyes widened slightly when she laid eyes not on Shepard or Lawson as she’d expected but on Arterius.

He was dressed down in what could only be called loungewear. Black suede-like boots covered his feet, loose-fitting grey linen pants hung from his hip spurs that matched a long grey robe, underneath which he wore a black shirt. The clothing somehow suited him, despite her never having expected to see him like this. Imagining Saren in anything but armour had been difficult.

Saren didn’t address her. He merely looked over, scanned her from head to toe once before zeroing in on his intended target -the unconscious turian in the medical bed closest to the AI core doors. She watched his expressionless face shift, ever so slightly. His mandibles pulled into his jaw and his eyes pinched into something like worry.

When Karin had told EDI what her patient’s status was, she hadn’t expected it to be Saren that came straight away. Perhaps… the rumours she’d heard on the first _Normandy_ were true. Garrus and Saren _had_ been together at one point in time or another.

Saren stalked across the room, remaining entirely silent. Not even his feet across the decking made a sound. His robe flared out behind him as he walked and it fluttered down to rest against the backs of his thighs when he stopped at Garrus’ side, looking down at him without a word or movement. It was eerie how quiet he was. Like a ghost. Or a spectre, her mind helpfully supplied.

No matter how hard she tried, the doctor couldn’t look away.

She could recall giving Garrus pamphlets on more than one occasion about abusive relationships. She remembered perfectly well the marks on his hide, worse than what would be considered normal even for a turian relationship.

But watching now, as Saren’s hand rose and hesitated to touch the unconscious turian, she realized that maybe, she had been wrong. This didn’t present as abusive at all. It was easy to see that Saren cared about the damage done, the mournful hum he released as his hand finally touched down on the uninjured side of Garrus’ face was enough for her to know that. The sight crossed the species barrier without issue.

Saren leaned in, slowly and carefully placing his crest against Garrus’ for a moment before pulling away. The intimacy made the doctor’s cheeks flush pink and she went back to her screen to give them a measure of privacy.

The ex-Spectre walked over to her desk after a few more minutes, allowing his footfalls to be heard as to not spook her. She turned and looked up at him. “Is there something I can do for you, Arterius?”

He reached his hand into the pocket of his robe, removing a charred piece of tech and offering it to her. “Are you familiar with biotic amp technology?” he asked.

“I am. Is that…” she reached out and took the damaged lump of metal into her hand, turning it over and running her fingertips along the melted edges. It was most definitely a blown-out amp. Her eyes flicked upwards to his passive expression. “How did you get it out?”

“Jack,” he said by way of explanation, offering her no more information than that.

Karin nodded and gestured toward the free bed as she stood up. “Have a seat, I’ll see what I can do to repair the damage.”

Without a quarrel, he went to the bed and sat down facing Garrus. The Doctor took her time searching out the tools she’d need. With so many biotics on board the ship already and more planned to come, the gear needed to support their needs was well stocked. When she stepped up behind him to work he didn’t so much as flinch.

First, Karin examined the port visually and ran a scan with her omnitool. The hide surrounding his amp port was obviously inflamed and the plates scorched. It must have been painful, though Saren didn’t complain. She applied a mild anti-inflammatory spray to the area and began working on checking the port’s integrity.

As she worked, the Doctor was struck by a pang of guilt.

Saren had waited until she was finished with Garrus before coming to her with his own injury. He’d checked on the other turian before even mentioning his issue and resorted to trusting someone he’d just met to remove the burned out amp…. Karin was amazed at how put-together and calm he was.

“It appears to have come out clean,” Karin said as she finished with her tests and began to suture a break in his hide closed. “You’re lucky.”

He just scoffed. “Hardly.”

“No, you really are,” she told him as she began applying medigel to the abused plating surrounding the port. “Allowing someone _-without medical training-_ to remove a spent amp is not something I’d recommend.”

Saren only growled in reply. The sound was simply annoyed and not angry.

Shaking her head, she kept her silence. Saren had no choice but to come to her for medical aid, otherwise, he’d have to leave the ship. Considering they’d undocked from Omega for the night, that wasn’t an option for the moment. Instead of rising to his level of sarcasm, she simply said: “Finished.”

He didn’t thank her. Only rose in one smooth motion and headed for the door, plucking the wasted amp from her hand when she offered it back to him. It would never work again but some of the components might be salvageable. Or it was possible he didn’t want her studying the device. Some biotics were very private when it came to their technology. Turian biotics tended toward that methodology more than the other species.

“Arterius?” He stopped at the door, waiting for her to continue without turning around. “No biotics for two days. I can keep you informed of Officer Vakarian’s status if you wish.”

There was a moment of indecision before Saren slowly shook his head and answered: “That is unnecessary. Good night, Doctor.”

He left her alone in the medical bay with her patient and as the door slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, she felt the weight of the encounter come off her chest all at once. She needed to sit down and did so with a heavy exhale.

Her fingertips went to the bridge of her nose and the Doctor’s eyes fluttered closed as she let the moment pass. Between handling Garrus’ injuries and now speaking with the supposed villain the _Normandy_ crew had spent months chasing across the galaxy, she felt as though a stiff drink was in order.

Karin only got as far as pulling her bottom drawer open before a shift in the room’s energy unsettled her. Call it a physician’s intuition, or perhaps a soldier’s, but she knew before turning around that her patient was awake. As quickly as the drawer opened, she closed it.

Garrus’ awakening came as both a relief and another stressor. It was too soon. Their multi-species supplies were low, to begin with. Performing the complex surgery had used all they had aboard the human-centric starship and she’d known the sedatives would wear off too early. She'd just thought there would be a little more time.

Her fingers instead smoothed through her hair as she spun in her desk chair. A calming smile worked its way onto her face, her eyes softened.

The turian’s good mandible was rotating against his jaw, the other remained immobile, kept still by the thick bandages. His talons scraped at the edge of the sheet that was pulled up over his keel like he was testing to see that his fingers still worked. As Karin stood up, she could see his eyelids fluttering and his nasal plates shifting against what she figured was the harsh antiseptic scent in the room. The smell permeated medical facilities across the galaxy and she could only imagine how bad it smelt to species with more developed senses of smell.

A harsh beep alerted her to change in Garrus’ heart rate. Her gaze flashed up to the monitor and she could see the last minute’s history displaying a sharp increase. It showed no signs of slowing. He’d yet to fully wake, even so, the sight of panic was familiar enough for her to see it plainly on his plates.

“Vakarian,” Karin said his name loudly as she rushed to his side. She needed to break him out of it. “Garrus, it’s Doctor Chakwas. You need to wake up.”

As her palm touched down on his shoulder, his eyes snapped open and he shoved himself away from her, batting her hand away with the edge of his palm. Garrus took a great gasp of air, scanning her and then the room around him quickly before shaking his head and blinking a handful of times. To her, it looked like someone who felt the room was spinning.

“You’re safe, Garrus,” she attempted to reassure him and didn’t attempt to reach out again. In fact, she took a half pace backward instead.

“Wh-ahhh,” he gasped sharply, one set of talons going to his injured mandible. He barely touched the bandage before flinching away and wincing.

Karin let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping a little as she willed herself to relax. “You’ve suffered an injury and had to undergo surgery. What’s the last thing you remember?”

His eyes pinched as he considered her question, his gaze lay still on the floor beyond her. “I don’t...  ahh…” again he flinched like the simple act of speaking caused him agony. “This must be a dream.”

“You’re not dreaming, Garrus,” Karin informed him gently. “Tell me what you remember and I can help with some of the gaps.”

“Gaps…. Spirits….” He let out a harsh laugh, finally pulling his gaze up to meet hers. The eyes she met weren’t the same ones she remembered from two years ago. They were hard as steel like the life was gone from them. His voice too was different when he snarled: “Where the fuck am I, Karin?”

Though startled by the shift, she answered him in an even tone, her professional mask saving her decorum. She’d spent over thirty years in service, the doctor wouldn’t be intimidated or deterred by a few harsh words. “You’re on the new _Normandy_. The SR-2.”

Garrus’ chin dropped forwards, his eyes narrowing again as he thought over her reply. A thousand things were probably running through his mind and if he remembered what happened on Omega he’d have a lot more questions for her. She was sure.

Before Karin could prompt him again, he was already reaching for the sensors and wires on his chest and twisting in the bed to place his feet on the floor. Shoving the sheet away and only clad in his undersuit pants and bandages he looked almost feral. He had half of the medical devices torn off before she could round the table to try and stop him. “Garrus, stop!”

But he didn’t. He forced himself up on unsteady feet, towering a half metre above her. She allowed it only because there was nothing she could do to stop it. There wasn’t much she could do against a two-metre tall turian soldier, even an injured one. He was non-violent, thus calling for security wouldn’t help the situation in the slightest. She’d have to talk him down.

“Back off,” he growled even as he swayed and stuck out an arm for balance.

“You need to lie back down, you’ve just had a major operation.” Karin stepped back regardless of her order, watching him intently. “I can call Shepard down if that would help?”

The offer didn’t matter. Garrus wasn’t listening.

Instead, he’d grasped the railing on the edge of the bed to keep himself upright. His eyes were shut against what she expected to be the dizzying effects of blood loss. He inhaled deeply through his nose and she watched his nasal plates shift as he did. He tensed up, just went rigid like he’d just realized something and it shocked him to stillness.

His free hand rose, sliding across the good side of his face before coming to rest on his crest. “What’s going on?” he said more to himself than to her.

Regardless, she answered. “I know it’s confusing right now, Garrus. You’ve been left in the dark and I know this is going to come as a sho-”

“Stop,” he cut her off. His voice didn’t sound like his own. He sounded… defeated. “Just stop.”

When he dropped his hand to his side, his eyes opened. Though they were unseeing as he forced himself straight and he shakily walked toward the door to the rest of the ship. He wavered as he went, nearly falling once before he caught himself against the second bed. His bare taloned feet scraped against the clean floor, exhaustion weighing down his shoulders.

“Where are you going to go? We’re aweigh,” she told him in hopes it would convince Garrus to stay in the medical bay. “It’s still the night cycle.”

He made it to the door before stopping to lean a hand against the frame. The display was red in front of him. EDI must have locked it. He half-turned to look at her out of his periphery, the only eye she could see was swimming with pain. His voice cracked as he answered: “Anywhere but here. Let me out.”

“EDI,” Karin said without taking her eyes off of Garrus. “Unlock the door and please direct Garrus wherever he would like to go.”

 _"Of course, Doctor.”_ The blue orb appeared on the pedestal by the door, making Garrus flinch away once again. He blinked down at it before leaving the room.

Karin watched his back disappear behind the door, just as she’d watched Saren go a handful of minutes ago. She released the breath she’d been holding, the night’s stress beating down on her shoulders harder than ever. Instead of going for the brandy, the doctor cleaned up the mess Garrus had left in his wake.

When she was finished, she headed for crew quarters.

“EDI,” she addressed the AI at the doorway of the medical bay before leaving.

_“Yes, Doctor? How may I assist you?”_

“What is Officer Vakarian’s location?”

_“Archangel is currently in the armoury. He appears to be repairing his suit. Would you like me to relay a message?”_

Karin shook her head, a sad little smile coming across her face. “No, however, I would like you to inform Operatives Lawson and Taylor when they wake up. I’m sure there’s an onboarding procedure they’ll need to complete.”

_“Understood, will there be anything else?”_

She considered telling EDI to inform the Commander as well but he figured that Shepard would find him immediately regardless. “That’s all, thank you. Please inform me if anyone is in medical distress, otherwise, I’m off duty for the next eight hours.”

_“Of course, Doctor. Logging you out.”_

+-+-+

Rest was easier to come by after he’d checked in on Garrus.

Saren slept soundly in the bed that had been delivered for him while he’d been away. The humans had either allowed the delivery staff to come aboard to set it up or they’d done it themselves. Either way, it didn’t matter. The rest of his supplies should be waiting for him in the cargo bay and his clothing and the furniture he’d ordered were all stacked neatly in his room.

Stretching his arms above his head, his real and the new prosthetic, gave him a satisfying crack at the midpoint of his spine. He slid out of the nest and padded over to the crate of supplies, drawing out a simple set of black civilian clothing.

By Doctor’s order and his own knowledge of his biotic limitations, he would be remaining ship side today. A quick check of his omnitool told him that Shepard had chosen to take Jack and another one of the humans with him to fetch the salarian scientist and also that the time was just after midday. According to the dossiers the Spectre had forwarded him, the scientist should be able to provide countermeasures for the Collector beasts they were chasing.

Dressed and ready for a meal, Saren left the confines of his quarters for the mess hall. It was past the humans’ mealtime and as such the space was mainly vacant and became entirely so as he stepped into the kitchenette. Someone had taken the time to clean the blood he’d left behind off the floor and the table, he could at least say that he appreciated their thoroughness.

The humans continued to avoid him. Unlike the doctor, they acted as though he terrified them. It was refreshing to feel in control again. Last night had been… an oddity for him. Neglecting his own health for another was atypical. Jack had been the one to snap him back to reality. His mandibles shifted in annoyance for that fact as well.

Suppressing the emotion, he searched out the box of fresh turian ingredients in the cooling unit. A standard meal of hearty grains and vat-grown protein, spiced with flavours from his homeworld was in order. It had been far too long since he’d eaten a proper Palavani meal. Pausing a moment to consider it, even before his imprisonment it would have been months… or maybe even a year.

As he portioned out ingredients for himself, his icy gaze rose to the darkened medical bay windows. He wasn’t sure if Garrus was awake yet, but if he was then he’d need to eat. His tongue slid along the edge of his fangs as he considered what to do and after a moment he decided to make two servings. At worst, he’d eat it later.

Saren’s practiced hands were quick with the knife as he cut the meat and set a pan to warm. His nasal plates shifted over the familiar scents filling his nose when he opened the sealed spices. Admitting he craved such a simple luxury wasn’t something he’d ever do aloud but in his own mind, he could salivate just a little over the smell of ground _carvi_ spice.

Once finished, he took one tray with him to the mess hall table and set the other underneath a cover to wait until he was done eating. Saren savoured the meal, eating through his large portion at a moderate pace. It was peaceful, despite the lingering stench of humans and human food.

Rising, Saren set the utensils and cookware into the cleaning unit to wash then he took up the second tray and headed for the medical bay. When he reached the door, the lock was a brilliant green but when it opened to a dim, empty room Saren bristled immediately.

“AI,” he snapped as he narrowed his eyes in a glare at the blue orb as it appeared. “Where is Vakarian?”

_“Archangel is in the main gun battery, at the far end of this deck, Arterius.”_

Saren felt his mandible twitch at the name, Archangel. That wasn’t his lover’s name. Feeling no need to reply to the computer, he turned on heel and went to the battery. On the stairs, he scented the air, the barest hint of Garrus sat beneath the ship smell and it grew stronger as he approached the doors.

Admittedly, Saren had no reason to be angry with the AI. He hadn’t asked to be informed of the other turian’s status but he also hadn’t expected him to be awake yet, let alone able to move on his own. Only the Spirits knew what he was doing in the battery, it didn’t make sense. Garrus should be resting.

At the end of the hall, the lock shone red. “AI, open the door.”

_“My apologies, Commander Shepard has not given you access to restricted areas of the ship.”_

He didn’t stop the growl that fell from his maw. It was automatic and angry. “I need to speak with Vakarian. Open the door.”

_“Archangel has requested privacy.”_

“Excuse me?” he scoffed, shifting the tray to one hand.

 _“Perhaps you would like to leave a message?”_ the AI offered in the same flat tone it used for every phrase. _“I can relay one if you wish.”_

Saren’s mandibles pulled in tight to his jaw and his eyes narrowed at the red light. The behaviour was concerning, Garrus had to know that he was on the ship. The Detective must have seen Shepard in order to be allowed into a restricted area if what the AI said was true. But Garrus didn’t seek him out as well. He mulled the offer over before deciding to go ahead.

“Inform him there is a meal ready,” Saren told the computer.

_“Understood, one moment.”_

Standing in silence at the door, he rested some of his weight into his right leg and stretched out the toe talons on his left foot in his boot. If this didn’t work, he was debating just breaking into the room. It would be a simple matter and a good test of his skills against the newer technology that had been developed while he’d been in cryo.

It proved an unnecessary line of thought as a moment later, the locked shifted to green and the door slid open to reveal a warm, darkened room. The lights were tinted red, casting shadows across the Sniper’s armoured back. Saren blinked at the change in brightness as he stepped inside. A warm roll of greeting failed to fall from his throat as he’d intended, instead, he was struck by the broken curve of Garrus’ shoulders. The weight rested wrong on him, the heavy armour pulling him down.

The soft clack of talons against a computer terminal keyboard met him over the gentle white noise of the gunnery systems and drive core. A soft pneumatic hiss behind him signalled the door had closed. Garrus didn’t look up. By scent alone, he would know who stood behind him.

Saren looked around. A few crates were settled by the door and an empty workbench sat against the right wall. Otherwise, the gun terminal in the centre of the room where Garrus stood was the focal point. Beyond him was the ship’s main weapon. It was clean, smelling of metal and heat.

Snapping out of his scan, Saren walked to the workbench and placed the covered tray down. Still, Garrus didn’t stop working on whatever it was he was doing. Now, the biotic had three choices either wait, leave or interrupt him. He chose the latter.

“Garrus.”

The sniper did not react overtly and had Saren not been watching, he would have missed the stutter his talons made in his line of... _code?_ possibly. Garrus’ thumb shifted to the backspace key and then he rewrote the line. When he finished, his hand shifted to the cursor and he saved the work.

Saren’s breath caught in his throat as Garrus’ eyes shifted up from the console to look at him out of his periphery. The bandaging may have hidden the worst of the damage but it did nothing to hide the heat in his gaze. Saren’s tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth to stop himself from grinding his teeth or clenching his mandibles.

He should have known better than to stay after seeing his expression. Instead, his concern outweighed his logical brain and he took a pace forward. Garrus straightened, turning toward him slowly. Saren imagined the sound of his bones grinding with the effort it took him to make that small movement.

“You’re injured,” Saren said, dropping a touch of concern intentionally into his subvocal tones, the sound reverberating between them was one of familiarity and comfort.

In turn, Garrus’ own voice remained flat, unaccepting. “That isn’t your problem.”

His head tilted to the side in question, if their last few encounters had been any indicator then it was indeed a concern to him. Saren couldn’t quite put a name on what they had but Garrus had saved him from _Sovereign_ and from himself. He’d nearly died because of it. Saren stepped in closer, a note of disagreement falling next. He was going to make it his problem. “You should be resting.”

Standing face-to-face with Garrus now, he was able to see the repair-work on his armour. The suit appeared to be combat ready so the work would have taken hours. There were still gouges in the collar and char marks, yet nothing that would keep it from being functional.

“As I said,” Garrus’ jaw clenched and had to pause a moment to wince, his uncovered eye twitching with discomfort. “It’s not your problem. Leave.”

Saren blinked twice. “Why?”

“Get out.” Garrus snapped the non-answer.

“No.”

Saren stepped a final time and Garrus jerked away, only to stumble over his own feet. Had the biotic not been there, he would have fallen. Saren swooped in, one hand going for his arm and the other for his hip to stabilize him. Garrus’ eyes grew wide, almost panicked, and he pulled himself out of the loose grip, his hands grasping the railing for balance instead.

“Just…. Just…. Get out.”

“Garrus-” he began only to stop when Garrus interrupted him.

“Why are you even here?” His voice had become vicious and cutting, betrayed if he had to put a name to the emotion.

Saren flinched away from the question, shocked that Garrus wouldn’t understand what he was attempting to do. His own reply came hesitantly, his voice open and honest and so unlike the turian he presented to the galaxy. Without _Sovereign_ in his head, it was easier to allow his subvocals to be freer. “I want to help you, Garrus. Let me.”

Shaking his head, the sniper looked away. He protected his injured side and his throat with the way he held his head low. Garrus appeared to need a moment to find words and Saren waited for him to be ready to speak, unmoving.

“You don’t know me,” Garrus told him. “I thought…. I thought you were dead. Now you’re back. Shepard’s back.… Just stop. You don’t know me, you….” His voice broke. “You used me.”

His mandibles dropped loose from his jaw, shock evident on his plates. “That’s not tru-”

“We’re not friends,” Garrus spat. The anger from earlier returned and when he looked up there was a fire in his eyes. “We fucked a few times. That’s all.”

Saren’s jaw snapped shut and he straightened. No, it wasn’t fire. It was ice, an avalanche freezing him out. His hands fell to his sides and he scanned Garrus from boot to crest, seeing his chest heaving beneath the armour and the tremble in his arms. He knew now that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with him for the moment. He refused to believe the words, not after what had happened on the Citadel and before that on Noveria. Garrus needed time.

“I’ll go,” Saren told him. He headed for the exit and walked out without hesitation. The door opened and he stepped into the hall. When he turned his head to see Garrus’ eyes fixed on his back, he met the gaze until the barrier slid closed between them.

The lock turned back to a foreboding red.

Saren’s feet made no sound as he strode through the mess hall towards his quarters. He could taste blood in his mouth. He must have bit his tongue. Anger warred with disappointment. Though, considering his decision to push his way in, now, in hindsight, he wasn’t sure what reaction he’d been expecting from the younger turian. Not only had Garrus believed him dead but he had just been grievously wounded and brought to the brink of death.

He felt a fool.

Once he was secure in his room, he allowed the weight of the conversation to show on his plates. His mandibles pulled into his jaw and his brow-plates furrowed. Rejection was not something he’d ever experienced in such a manner. Society shunned him but never someone he’d allowed to get close. Though… that list was minimal at best and most of them were dead; Desolace, Benezia… Nihlus.

Instead of wallowing, he sat down on the couch and proceeded to begin looking through reports on his omnitool. There was a fair amount of data to cover still from Shepard and even more from his missing years.

Hours passed in silence.

After the human dinner hour, he took a break long enough to fetch a second meal. This time, he was not alone in the kitchen. Jack sat at the table, her booted feet on the surface and the chair perched precariously on its back legs. She said nothing, only glanced up at him as he came in before going back to her omnitool.

The quiet between them could almost be considered companionable.

Once his meal was prepared and a second portion set aside for Garrus, he sat down on the opposing end of the table with his back to the elevator wall. There he could keep an eye on the closed battery door, the lock still burning red. He hated it.

Still, Jack said nothing. But he could see her gaze passing between him and the leftover food and the locked door. She was curious and not at all subtle about it.

Saren finished eating and cleaned his dishes. The leftover portion was stowed in the cooling unit and before he left, he stopped near the AI’s terminal. He spoke quietly, though he was sure the human biotic would hear him regardless. “AI, tell Vakarian there is a meal.”

 _“Of course, Arterius."_ It replied as it winked into existence. _“Will there be anything else?”_

“No.,” he told it before heading for his quarters again.

_“Logging you out.”_

Alone again, he sighed and dropped onto the couch. This time, he wasn’t so quick to pull out his omnitool to work. Instead, he stared out the viewport. They’d left Omega once Shepard had returned with the salarian and now the vastness of space was laid out before him. Billions of stars shone motionless against the black, blue waves of the ship’s mass effect field sliding by soundlessly.

It had a calming effect. The void always did.

Other than being with Garrus, it had been the only way he’d ever managed to find a quiet reprieve from _Sovereign’s_ control. He only wished his mind would stop racing now. Two years was a long time. It was possible Garrus had changed too much.

What was months of captivity for him, was years of life for the sniper.

“Want to get drunk?”

Saren snapped out of his head and whipped around to see Jack standing at the open door, he’d missed the sound of it opening. Two large bottles were in her hands. Again, the woman had snuck up on him. It was unheard of in his career to be startled by anyone, let alone this human barely old enough to be called an adult. Her bold colouring and brash manner aside, he should have at least been able to smell her coming. He cut off his automatic growl.

“Excuse me?”

Jack rolled her eyes and walked deeper into the room, holding out the blue bottle that he recognized as a turian brandy to him. “You’re a bad listener, you know that?”

He took the offering from her and she seemed to take that as permission to sit down. Jack kicked off her boots and sat in the centre of the couch opposite his own, her feet on the cushion next to her and her knees bent. She too stared out into space. “Nice view.”

Humming in agreement, he looked down at the bottle. It was the brand he’d ordered with his supplies. Somehow he doubted that Shepard had added it to his supply run. “Is this mine?”

She twisted the cap off of her amber bottle open and flicked the cap away toward the window. She raised an eyebrow at him like it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard someone ask. “You think I just carry around dextro booze with me? Of course, it’s yours, skull-face.”

Jack took a long first sip of her beverage and he watched her wince at the taste. Even across the room, he could smell the bitter alcohol. He doubted that the levo liquor was hers either, not that he particularly cared if she stole from Cerberus, but it didn’t appear to be her taste.

“Stay away from my weapons. They’re DNA coded.” It was as close to gratitude as she was going to get for bringing him his own supplies.

“No shit,” she scoffed, without looking over.

He considered that enough and pressed a talon against the cap of his own bottle. Typically, he’d find a glass but tonight he didn’t particularly care. The idea of getting drunk, or at least tipsy, sounded preferable to the alternative. Perhaps he’d be able to get Garrus’ hurt expression out of his head for a brief few moments and he did, of course, have alcohol counteracting medication should the need for it arise. He wasn’t about to be caught out on a potential enemy vessel.

The pair were silent until a quarter of their bottles were emptied.

It was Jack that spoke up again. “So… you going to stay when we get to the next port?”

Saren glanced at her, sidelong. She was still staring out the window, the bottle held loose in her hand behind the couch. “Yes. This mission... the Reapers. They’re real.”

The human hummed an affirmative. “Yeah. I think I’m going to stay too. For now at least.” She shrugged, turning to look at him. “Think your boyfriend is going to stay too?”

He jerked away from her at the inquiry, barely suppressing a growl of discontent.

“Didn’t mean any offence, fuck.” She brought her bottle to her lips again, taking a swig before resting it between her thighs. She rolled her eyes before her gaze moved back toward the windows. “Archangel looked like he’d seen a ghost when he laid eyes on you. Thought he was going to drop his gun or something.”

“Hm,” Saren made the dismissive sound around his bottle, his thumb claw scraping against the label when he lowered it. His pale blue stare remained out the viewport, unseeing of the stars this time and caught in the middle distance.

“He came out to get the food,” Jack said suddenly. “Dropped off an empty tray. Looked uncomfortable, but you know… alive? So that’s probably a good thing.” She shrugged and took another swig.

Saren brought the brandy to his mouth and drained another two shots worth before recapping it and placing it on the floor beside his feet. A hum of gratitude fell between them but he didn’t voice words of thanks.

“I don’t know,” he answered her question from earlier. When she stared at him quizzically, he elaborated: “If he’ll stay, that is.”

“Well, here’s hoping.” She raised her bottle to him in a mockery of a salute. “As many non-Cerberus bastards we can get, the better.”

He chuffed. “We could just kill them.”

She grinned like a turian would, her teeth on display not in happiness or humour but in a more feral gesture. “I like your style, old man.”

“I am not old,” he told her as he forced himself to his feet. The weight of a third of a bottle of strong turian alcohol after two and a half years sober weighed on him.

“Right….” Jack drew out the word as she got to her feet and looked around for her cap. She found it after a moment and closed the bottle before sliding her feet back into her boots. Sensing the night was over without his saying so, she headed for the door. “Get some beauty sleep, Archangel’s still prettier than you.”

Saren growled at her, more annoyed than angry.

Her hands rose in front of her in surrender, the bottle held loosely from her fingers. She walked backward the rest of the way out of the room. “Sorry, but it’s true.” Again she grinned and when the door slid closed, she disappeared from sight.

Somehow, he felt better for the personal interaction. Usually, his preference was to be alone with his thoughts. It was easier than dealing with others. Yet, as he changed and then headed for bed, his mind remained stuck on the fact that Jack reminded him of Nihlus. She was bullheaded and crass just like him but also perceptive and empathetic.

He couldn’t bring Nihlus back... but the Spirits seemed to have punished him with this human who reminded him so much of the pain in the ass. Perhaps he could at least keep this one alive.

+-+-+

Two weeks went by and there was little change on the _Normandy_ other than new crew members being added to the roster. A krogan, Grunt, and another human, Kasumi Goto. Shepard rotated the crew fairly evenly between the non-Cerberus members as they performed a handful of missions to improve team cohesiveness.

Shepard never took him and Garrus out together.

Saren hadn’t spoken to the sniper since the day after his surgery. Since then, he’d continued making meals large enough for two and the younger turian continued eating them. When they’d been on the Citadel fetching the thief, he’d ordered a few items for Garrus and had the supply-tech deliver them to him under the guise of Shepard having made the order.

He rarely even saw Garrus and the only way he knew the gifts had been accepted was by the lingering scent of plate scrub in the showers. For the most part, the sniper sequestered himself in the main battery. Once daily, Shepard would visit during his rounds. Otherwise, he came out for missions or mission prep.

Tossing his datapad down on the couch, Saren stood up to pace. His hands clasped together behind his back and his gaze shifted to watch the stars. He willed himself to calm down but the lack of contact was starting to eat away at his carapace. Over the few times he and Garrus had been together, he’d grown attached. While he was incarcerated, his mind had drifted back to those moments, again and again, to save himself from the pain of the surgeries and procedures the Council had made him endure.

It had been the morning after Noveria that kept him sane through forced mind-melds; thoughts of Garrus’ talons on his hips and Garrus’ tongue on his throat. When he’d been blind as they cloned new eyes for him, it had been the memory of their crests pressed together under the rubble on the Citadel.

He was irritable, and focusing on his research was becoming more difficult by the day. There wasn’t enough for him to do on the _Normandy_. On his own ship, the _Tachýs_ , he would have maintenance tasks and general busy-work. Here the humans took care of everything save his own gear.

But his ship was gone. It had been destroyed alongside _Sovereign._

Sighing, Saren stopped pacing and placed his real hand against the viewport. The chill seeped through his glove. So much was still left undone. There was no way to go faster since Shepard’s pace was appropriate. Too quick and they’d fail.

A ping pulled him out of his thoughts. He raised his head, dropping his hand from the window. “Come in.”

The door slid open to reveal Shepard, dressed in full armour. The black plates were emblazoned with a red stripe down one arm and an N7 emblem on the chest-plate. “We’ve got a lead,” he said without preamble as he strode into the room. “A human colony, Horizon, just went dark. We think it’s the Collectors.”

Saren’s brow-plate rose. “I assume you’d like me for the ground team then.”

“I would…” Shepard began but he didn’t finish the thought immediately, instead, his jaw slid to the side as though he was grinding his teeth. “I need a sniper, too.”

“Ah,” the biotic made the sound of acknowledgment and then fell silent. His hands slid behind his back again and he waited for the human to continue.

“I need to know you can work with him.”

He considered the statement carefully before giving an answer. It would force them into contact with one another, perhaps begin to bridge the rift between them. Whether that was Shepard’s intention or not, he did not know or particularly care. “You have other options, Shepard. Why now?”

The human released a long breath, bringing his hand to his brow for a moment as though he was stifling a headache. Saren had begun to learn the man’s moods over the past weeks, his mannerisms and facial expressions, too. In some ways, humans weren’t so different from his own species.

“I need someone who’s seen Collectors before and that’s you. And, apparently, the Alliance tried to set up AA towers on the colony, Garrus is the only one with the technical expertise get them up and running, so I need him, too.” Dropping his hand, Shepard gave him a hard stare. “Can you do it or not?”

“I can.”

“Good. Suit-up, planet fall in thirty.”

Without further discussion, the human turned on heel and left the room through the still open door. By his direction, he was headed for the battery and not the elevator. That surprised him. He’d expected Shepard to have checked with Garrus first.

Either way, he would take advantage of the time. It would be… good to see Garrus for more than a handful of moments and to watch him back in his element. He’d reviewed a few of the mission feeds and Garrus moved differently than how he remembered from before his imprisonment. He wanted to learn the differences, see if they could still work together as they did on Omega.

After donning his armour, Saren headed for the lift. His pistol already rested against his hip and he fetched his assault rifle from the armoury before going down to the shuttle bay. When he arrived, Jack was leaning against the door of the Kodiak with her arms crossed over her chest. She looked moderately uncomfortable in light armour but Shepard had been forcing her to wear the gear more often as time went on. Considering they’d be dealing with seeker swarms… he had to agree with Shepard.

His mandibles shifted in towards his jaw. If Jack was here it meant Garrus had refused the mission. Shepard only ever took teams of three ground side. Outwardly, there was no other sign of his discontent. Jack didn’t acknowledge him as he passed her to sit down in the shuttle.

Pulling up his omnitool, Saren leaned forward in the seat with an elbow on his knee. They didn’t need to wait long before the sound of the elevator arriving rung out in the cargo bay. Not one, but two sets of boots paced across the metal floors. Shepard stepped into the Kodiak first, Garrus close on his heels.

Garrus didn’t look at him as he took a seat across the aisle.

Regardless, Saren felt the tension in his shoulders release. Progress had been made. For the briefest moment, he was thankful to Shepard. The human rapped on the cockpit door once Jack had closed the door and just as fast as they’d arrived, they were on their way to Horizon.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**   
>  _“We are Harbinger. You will obey, Saren.” ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**When the Seasons Change - Five Finger Death Punch**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhtwUk3QagQ)

**Faults and Fortitude - 4**

\- - -

Stepping foot on Horizon felt surreal.

Saren’s gaze swept habitually across the landing field for hostiles before he allowed himself to look upward at the Collectors’ ship looming over the settlement. The sight sent a chill down his spine and made his mandibles pinch in toward his jaw. In the data packet he’d received from Shepard there had been images of the ship but viewing it in person brought on a foreboding feeling.

Taking point, Shepard motioned for the rest of the team to follow. “We’re ground-side,” he said into the comm. “Mordin, you sure these armour upgrades will protect us from the seeker swarms?”

There was a moment of static before the salarian came back.  _ “Certainty impossible. But in limited numbers should confuse detection, make you invisible to swarms. In theory.” _

“In theory?” Garrus’ voice startled Saren not only because of his silence for the duration of the trip down to the surface but also for the sarcastic edge in his tone. “That sounds promising.”

_ “Experimental theory,” _ Solus tsked.  _ “Only test is contact with seeker swarms. Look forward to seeing if you survive!” _

Shepard cut the comm signal out and they moved into the settlement. His hand gestures had become familiar enough for Saren to follow with ease over the past weeks. Saren and Jack spread out to the right and left, respectively, with Garrus following behind, his rifle drawn and mic muted.

Horizon’s yellowed skies swarmed with Collector insects, their numbers shadowing the ground like cloud cover. The countermeasure appeared to be working as they had yet to attack, at least for the time being. When the crew approached the supply area, they found colonists frozen like statues across the settlement. That alone was abhorrent enough without the closer look he took at a woman sprawled out on the ground. Despite being unable to move, her senses did not appear to be impinged. Her eyes followed them. She knew what was happening and was powerless to stop it. Friends and family members had no doubt been taken, one-by-one, before her eyes.

Saren knew the heartlessness of the Reapers. He’d served  _ Sovereign _ and knew their methods all too well. He could remember each and every atrocity he’d committed. He’d used other sentient beings as test subjects and cannon fodder. He’s nearly allowed them to take control of the galaxy. Somehow, this seemed worse. They had gone too far.

The humans were like animals being taken to the slaughter. Unlike him, they were not indoctrinated. They knew what was happening to them and were powerless against it.

He swallowed down the dread building beneath his keel. Like every other thought to cross his mind lately, it wasn’t the time to remember. Instead, he glanced back over his shoulder to check Garrus’ position. The sniper wasn’t paying him any mind. His helmeted gaze too busy scanning the area. Regardless, cold as he was, the sight of his once-partner still settled his mind.

A buzzing noise at the edge of his hearing tugged at Saren’s attention. He twisted around, shouldering his assault rifle but before he could call out a warning, Garrus was already firing.

“Hostiles!” the sniper yelled as the first boom of his rifle cracked though the air.

In the first wave, Collectors attacked them from the air and human-like husks from the ground. While planting his fist into the chest of a husk that got too close, Saren focused on keeping his mind blank. He remembered husks too. He could vividly recall the geth throwing humans onto great pikes on Eden Prime and other worlds. Even though he’d never been the one doing the throwing… he still felt remorse for those he’d allowed to be used as mindless tools.

The thought of who he’d allowed himself to become sickened him. He’d been just as mindless.

As they fought through the settlement, they moved as a well-tuned unit. Jack was excellent for crowd control, able to throw shockwave after shockwave at their enemies with seemingly unending energy reserves. Garrus took the high ground through the buildings and watched their flank. Shepard and Saren fought similarly to one another: both preferred close quarters combat. Deafening gunfire levelled the competition over the explosions the three biotics made.

It was madness. And Saren reveled in it.

Tearing apart the Collectors was particularly satisfying to Saren. The almost rhythmic thump of Garrus’ sniper rifle was like music to dance to. The cadence perfectly timed to his biotic attacks as he leapt over bodies and spun in and out of cover. 

For the first time since joining the  _ Normandy _ , he felt like a part of the team instead of a parallel force. It wasn’t something he ever imagined wanting for himself. He hadn’t worked with a group since Sovereign indoctrinated him. The last time had been during Nihlus’ training. His first student, Avitus Rix, had requested assistance on a particularly difficult mission in his sector. This wasn’t the same, it never would be, but it was enough. 

Though Garrus had yet to say a word to him, he caught the sniper’s gaze on his back more than once. They cleared the battlefield as one entity. Bodies were thrown high into the air, stripped of barriers and shields, their heads exploding before they came back down again. Saren wished he could see Garrus’ expression through his darkened visor or even just hear his subvocal tones over the comm but Garrus kept his line muted. The lack of response was maddening but he wouldn’t trade this fight for anything. This was the closest he’d felt to the other turian in months.

It wasn’t until the first Collector started glowing that the dream-like state he’d been in fizzled out and died a swift death.

_ “I will direct this personally,” _ the Collector’s voice boomed from beyond the battlefield.

The tension returned in full force, Saren’s spine going tighter than a bowstring. His next biotic explosion missed its mark by a full metre. The exoskeleton burned off the Collector’s muscles, leaving behind a blackened husk that glowed yellow through its arteries. No… not the Collector. The  _ Reaper _ .

Jack threw out a warp and even though it hit the entity square in the chest, nothing happened. It appeared to have a barrier protecting it. “What the fuck is that?!” she yelled, dodging its biotic attack.

“Nothing good!” Shepard replied as he let off a burst from his assault rifle. “Focus your fire!”

“On it! Firing a high impact shot!” Garrus called out before the resounding boom of a concussive round broke through the air and impacted the barrier. 

It wasn’t fazed. Instead, it turned its glowing gaze on him.  _ “We are Harbinger. You will obey, Saren.” _

Dread made Saren’s gizzard drop. He felt sick. His eyes were wide and his pistol shook with a tremor as he aimed at the… the  _ thing _ that spoke his name. He unloaded the pistol once, dodging to the side as it unleashed a biotic field at him in return. Once he was moving, fear was drowned out by training, his instincts on the battlefield overpowering his memories.

Two deafening bangs sounded off from behind him, it was Garrus. The Collector jerked back as the shots impacted the centre of mass and its barrier disintegrated. Saren emptied his own weapon into the glowing Collector a second time and it was the second barrage from the sniper’s rifle that made it turn to ash.

Dropping into cover behind an overturned crate, Saren leaned his back against the metal and reloaded his pistol. His breaths came in great heaves, his pupils dilated and his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt off-balance and so unlike himself. Idly, he could hear the others shouting as they finished off the last abomination. Then there was nothing. Silence overcame the battlefield.

Footsteps pulled Saren’s attention up.

_ “Shepard, clear the buildings ahead. I’ll catch up,” _ Garrus told the Spectre over the comm as he came to a halt a metre away and holstered his rifle. His helmet dipped as he looked down, the tinted visor blocked out his expression. After a beat, Garrus reached out his arm and waited. Hesitant, Saren looked from his helmet down to the offering and then back, as if waiting for the hand to be rescinded. When it wasn’t, Saren committed to his choice and seized it, allowing the  sniper to haul him to his feet.

“I suppose that proves the theory that husks are Reaper technology,” Garrus said.

Under his own helmet, Saren’s mandibles pinched to his jaw. Whether this thaw was simply because he had the information Garrus wanted or because he was actually concerned, Saren didn’t know. Regardless, he answered: “They are.”

The sniper released his arm. “I didn’t see the spires here. I don’t think they’re the colonists.”

“No,” Saren shook his head and dropped his arm to his side reluctantly. “The Collectors must have already had the husks. They want the colonists alive for something.”

“The Collectors must be experimenting on them. What are they up to?”

“It's better not to know the details,” Saren answered, turning away to watch Shepard and Jack disappear into a building.

Considering everything he’d been made to do, the details were things of nightmares. Saren might not know the motivations behind the Collectors’ tactics but what he did know is that it couldn’t be anything wholesome. Shepard had closed their primary gateway to the Milky Way, they must have been looking for an alternative route in. Over the past weeks, he’d shared everything he knew about them with the human Spectre, what had been passed on to Garrus, Saren didn’t know.

Glancing back at the sniper, he heard a curious hum fall from his throat. Before Saren could decipher the emotion behind it, Garrus cut it off. Under his helmet, Saren’s mouth curled in a soundless snarl and turned away again, clipping his pistol to its maglock at his hip. The frustration he felt at Garrus’ self-control overwhelmed him. Not for the first time did he wish for the Garrus Vakarian he’d known from before his life disintegrated around him. 

Garrus kept pace with him until they joined the others. When they reached them, the sniper went inside the building with Shepard while Saren hung back. Jack joined him in the doorway.

“Shepard’s worse at hacking than me,” Jack said. “No wonder he keeps Archangel around.”

“Stop calling him that.”

She turned a glare on him, her arms crossing over her chest. “Why? It pisses you off or something?” 

“Yes,” Saren growled without pause. 

“Alright,” she raised her chin to him in the movement that meant human acknowledgment and turian acquiescing. “No wonder he keeps  _ Garrus _ around. What the fuck were those things, anyway?”

Saren watched her blankly for a moment before calming himself enough to respond. “They used to be human, the Reaper’s technology warps them into husks of their former selves. They’re mindless drones.”

“They still die when you shoot them?” 

“They do.”

Ahead of them, Shepard called for the squad to regroup. Another wave of Collectors had found them. Saren caught Jack nod before she said: “Then it doesn’t matter what they are. We’ll win.” 

Together they launched into the fray.

Saren’s mind had settled some and it was easier to get back into the rhythm of battle than he’d expected it to be. Even as the Collectors kept coming at them and the Harbinger reappeared, he kept himself together.  _ “Direct intervention is necessary, assuming control of this form.” _

“No, you don’t!” Garrus head-shotted it before the transition was complete. It disintegrated to ashes. 

_ “This body does not matter,” _ it boomed as it took control of another Collector.  _ “My attacks will tear you apart.” _

“Unlikely!” Jack laughed, warping the second before the barrier could come to full strength. Saren finished it off with a few rounds from his pistol.

When the field became quiet once again, the squad had made it to a bunker. Inside a human was cowering and Shepard spoke with him, learning what he could. It was enough that they found out where the GARDIAN laser controls were. Shepard had been correct: he'd need Garrus to get the targeting software online. 

Shepard smirked at Garrus. “Think you can calibrate it?”

The younger turian’s crest flicked in annoyance and he grumbled, but did reply that, yes, he could damn well recalibrate the Alliance software. Saren didn’t understand the joke.

Moving outside again, they found another section of the settlement. It was emptier than the first few. There were no bodies and no resistance. More of the Reaper’s minions found them in the courtyard surrounding the AA cannons control systems. Again Collectors attacked them, but the husks were interspersed with mixed-breeds. Massive, slow-moving blue beasts looked like they’d been built from multiple bodies. They took longer to kill.

_ “Kill one and a hundred will replace it!” _ Harbinger menaced as it flitted between the bodies of the Collectors.

Shepard ignored it. “Garrus, there’s the transmitter. Get to the controls. We’ll cover you.”

“On it,” the sniper sprinted for the centre of the battlefield, downing a husk on the platform as he approached. Shepard protected his back as he moved, allowing Garrus to holster his rifle again as he skidded to a stop.

“Can you get the colony’s defence towers online?” Shepard asked him, taking aim and firing at a charging husk.

There was a warbled note of frustration in his subvocals but an affirmative noise came at the end of his grumbling. “I can calibrate it but it’s going to take some time, Shepard. I can’t mask the increased power this thing is going to need.”

“Means more killing for me,” Jack called out after she tossed a few more husks into the air. Her laugh followed Saren slaughtering them before they could hit the ground.

Saren could hear a dropship, over his shoulder he yelled: “Reinforcements closing.”

“Get those guns online, Garrus,” Shepard ordered before shouldering his rifle again. As the first of the Collectors hit the ground and the groans of additional husks came into earshot, he joined Saren and Jack on the battlefield. “Keep them clear of the centre platform.”

“You got it!” Jack replied.

“Understood,” said Saren.

The fight was rough. More enemies than before came at them and without Garrus’ assistance, they were a gun short. Saren was surprised at how the tide of the battle changed without the constant sniper fire. He’d gotten used to it too quickly. 

They received periodic updates from Garrus, informing them of the weapon’s status. Saren kept close to him, ensuring anything that got by Shepard didn’t manage to get past him. On Omega, he’d failed. This time he would keep the other turian safe.

It wasn’t until another new type of husk appeared on the horizon that they had any trouble. The massive abomination looked almost like a hanar meshed with human flesh. It floated above the ground, shooting what looked like biotics out of its centre of mass.

“What the shit is that?” Jack screeched as she dove for cover. “Motherfucker that thing is disgusting!”

“Don’t let it get close to you!” Shepard called out. “Damn it, Garrus. We need that gun!”

The sniper growled. “Almost there!”

Saren saved his breath for the fight. His amp was beginning to feel warm at the base of his skull but this one was modified to allow for a higher spike. It cooled more rapidly than the last and let him stay in the fight. 

Eventually, Garrus succeeded. “I’ve got this!” he crowed in triumph and fired at the Collectors’ ship. No sooner than the first barrage hit, did they fire up their engines. Around the squad, the few remaining husks started retreating and shooting them down was simple between firing volleys at the warped hanar.

A second wave of missiles hit the ship and great billows of smoke started to pour from one of the engines. It didn’t seem to matter much as the ship continued to accelerate, leaving half of the colony behind as they fled.

The newest abomination fell to the squad’s fire, disintegrating just like the rest and leaving the battlefield in silence for the final time. Or it was… until the mechanic from earlier reappeared, shouting about the half of the colony that they were too late to save. In Saren’s opinion, the man should have been grateful. 

While Shepard dealt with the human, Saren went to Garrus. The sniper had removed his helmet and was leaning against the console catching his breath. He looked up at the sound of Saren’s booted feet across the metal platform, expression flashing from exhaustion to relief before going blank of any emotion. For the briefest of moments, Saren hoped it had been a thaw.

“The Collectors got what they came for,” Garrus said, bitterly. “There’s no reason to stay.” He pushed himself off the console and started walking toward the humans. 

Saren sighed and followed him. 

Instead of the mechanic, an armoured human stood with Shepard and Jack. A moment’s consideration was all it took for him to figure out who the man was; Shepard’s old subordinate. Garrus’ surprised mention of his name confirmed it. 

“Alenko, good to see you.”

“Garrus?” the human turned on him, anger outweighing his surprise. “You’re working for Cerberus too? It’s a terrorist group!”

He flinched, his teeth clenching to hold down a growl. “I’m working for Shepard. Not them.”

Alenko shook his head, bringing a hand to his brow before turning on the Spectre again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive, Shepard? Losing you was like losing a limb.”

Scoffing, Saren’s eyes flicked down to his prosthetic arm. He pulled his fingers into a fist before looking back up. “Hardly.”

The Alliance soldier’s head whipped up, shock painting his features as he stared open-mouthed at the black and chrome armoured turian. Saren’s helmet was distinctive to accommodate his fringe, his voice was fairly unique too. Combined with the presence of Garrus and Shepard, it made sense his mind jumped to the conclusion so quickly.

“Is that…” Alenko began, his hand dropping to his hip to grasp his weapon. Before Saren could care to react on his own, Garrus was already moving. The sniper snarled and launched himself forward, shoving Alenko back a metre into the wall of crates behind him and pinning him there easily.

“Garrus! What the hell?” Alenko shouted.

Saren’s brow rose beneath his helmet. Maybe there  _ had  _ been a thaw.

“That’s enough,” Shepard stepped up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. Garrus’ growl lowered in volume and he did as ordered, releasing his hold on the smaller male’s armour. “Our colonies are disappearing. The Alliance turned its back on them. Cerberus is the only group willing to do something about it. I’m working  _ with _ them, not for them.”

Though Alenko looked relieved, he glared at Garrus. There was venom in his voice as he challenged the Spectre. “You can’t really believe that! We both know what Cerberus is like. What they’re capable of. I wanted to believe the rumours that you were alive, but I never expected anything like this. You turned your back on everything we stood for.”

“You owe Shepard your life!” Garrus snarled. “Damn it, Alenko! You’re so focused on Cerberus that you’re ignoring the real threat!”

The Commander turned, giving Saren the 'evacuate all' signal with a jerk of his head and flick of his hand. “I said enough, Garrus. Call the shuttle.”

Saren flicked his crest in acknowledgment. Stepping beside Garrus, he let their shoulders clink together, wordlessly telling the sniper to come with him. After a moment’s indecision, Garrus agreed. Jack followed them. Even as they walked away, the men continued to argue. Shepard’s efforts appeared to be wasted on Alenko. Despite whatever history they had, the human remained combative and unhearing. In his opinion, it wasn’t worth Shepard’s time.

Garrus pulled up his omnitool, punching in the calling code for the  _ Normandy _ . After a moment the comm connected. “Joker, the ground team is ready for pickup.” The pilot replied after a moment’s static and Garrus shut off the comm.

With nothing to do but wait, Jack kicked a spent thermal clip across the field. It had obviously been assisted by her biotics as it flew high through the air in an arc. In his periphery, he watched Garrus’ pistol raise as he sighted and then shot it down.

_ Impressive _ .

The biotic human grinned and picked up another, sending it higher and further. Garrus hit that one too before clipping his pistol back onto his hip. They settled in to wait. 

Before long the shuttle came into view and Shepard joined them. He let out a long exhale while looking over his shoulder at the retreating back of his old squadmate. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this colony.”

+-+-+

The near-silent clicking sound of talons across a keyboard filled the  _ Normandy’s _ main battery, as had become typical of the warm, dark room. Alone, with mathematics and calculus filling his brain, was the only place where Garrus seemed to be able to find any peace inside his own mind. Other than the battlefield, that is.

Despite today’s ferocious mission, his mind refused to settle. It was getting late.

The muscles in his shoulders ached from his rifle’s recoil and his legs burned from running for as long as he’d needed to. His face hurt too. But that was nothing new. Ever since Omega the burns and scars along the right side of his body always ached where feeling still resided. Where it did not, there was an empty feeling like a part of him was missing. He supposed something was, he admitted to himself, a mild buzz of agitation falling from his throat.

His talons stuttered, making a mistake in his line of code. 

With a heavy sigh, Garrus backed off the text until he returned to the beginning of the section and he started anew. Whenever his mind drifted too far off task, he’d make an error and force himself to do it over again. It was tedious work and slow. It was the only thing he could think to do with himself where he’d have privacy to brood and still be useful to Shepard. When he’d first arrived he must have rewritten lines a hundred times before they came out correct.

The Commander deserved for him to be useful. Shepard had saved his pathetic life, for whatever it was worth. In his opinion that wasn’t much. Not after how he’d left things on Omega. Not after what he’d allowed Sidonis to do to the rest of their team. A fresh wave of guilt infiltrated his mind and before Garrus could screw up another code-set he saved the work and backed out of the program.

Running his fingers through the blades of his fringe, Garrus’ eyes closed as he tried to breathe out the frustration. Not only with himself for the guilt but his inability to focus on the calibrations anymore tonight. It wasn’t that the gun needed more work, it was already operating at 122% of the manufacturer's specifications, but he felt useful when he worked to improve it. Even if it was only 0.001% for every hour he spent.

A grumble from his stomach made itself known, the sound cutting into the quiet din of the weapon’s systems and the drive core. Checking his omnitool, Garrus saw that it was well past the human dinner hour and the time Saren typically cooked their meal. 

Unconsciously, his hand had raised to the only scar on his face not related to the rocket. He scratched at the long healed-over bullet wound bisecting his colonial paint with the edge of a talon. Today had been the longest amount of time he’d spent in Saren’s presence since Noveria. It had… felt good, if he wanted to be honest with himself.

As he shut down the terminal and headed for the kitchen, Garrus’ mandibles fluttered. They still hadn’t talked but they had been able to watch one another's’ backs in the field. That had to mean something. He was tempted to go to the elder male’s quarters but didn’t know if Saren would even want to see him.

The Collectors threatening him by name had freaked him out. 

Hell, they freaked Garrus out and it wasn’t even his name. A shudder passed through his body as he stepped up to the cooling unit. He was glad no one else was around to see it, the mess hall being empty as usual at this hour. The lights were dimmed by the AI.

Scanning the shelves, he came up empty. He did a second run through of the unit, moving around some of the human foods as he did so. Still, there was nothing. Ever since Garrus’ first day on the  _ Normandy _ , Saren had made a second portion of food. The only times when Saren skipped a meal were when he was off-ship with Shepard and even then there was always extra at the next.

Garrus closed the door and walked over to the cleaning unit to check for utensils. At least then he’d know if Saren had intentionally skipped making him something or if he hadn’t eaten either. A thorough check and Garrus came up empty again. It wasn’t right.

His mandibles rotated against his jaw in indecision as he went back to the cooling unit. He could just eat a ration bar or make his own food. Neither sounded very appealing. Instead, Garrus filled the kettle with water and set it to boil. At the very least he wanted kava. Saren had thought of that, too and bought a variety pack when they’d docked at the Citadel to pick up the thief. Two types were running low, the one Garrus preferred and the one he assumed was Saren’s favourite.

Before he could think too deeply about it, he grabbed one of each. 

A peace offering was in order. 

Searching through the cabinets, Garrus found a box of meal replacement bars. The script on the box claimed them to taste better than mother’s regurgitate. Somehow he doubted it but regardless he still took out two bars and tore into one while steeping the kava. It wasn’t nearly as good as the meals Saren had been making for him but it was edible at the least. 

Stowing the other in his pocket, he waited for the kettle while leaning against the island counter to eat. The sticky bar was perforated into sections that were easy to swallow, though he knew he’d be thankful for kava to wash it down.

Once he put the wrapper in the recycler and finished preparing kava, Garrus steeled himself with a deep breath and walked across the deck toward Saren’s room. He knew where Saren spent most of his time. He’d asked EDI when he’d initially left the medical bay so that he could avoid him. It felt childish in hindsight but he hadn’t been ready to face him.

Even now, as he stood at the door with hot mugs in hand, nerves made him wonder if this was a good idea or not. It was too late to turn back now. Saren would notice a package of his own kava missing, as Garrus had never taken a different flavour than his usual and the biotic was perceptive. He pressed the call button with the side of his hand and waited.

A few moments later, the door lock turned green and slid apart to reveal the most breathtaking view of the stars. At first, Garrus’ gaze was drawn to the viewport and it wasn’t until Saren greeted him that he snapped out of the momentary stupor.

“Garrus?”

He blinked a few times, turning to face the biotic. Saren was sitting on a couch, his prosthetic arm removed and laying on a low table in front of him. For a moment, he simply stared at the limb, his mouth agape. Memories of blood and of Saren’s screams cut through his consciousness. Images he thought were long buried came back in full force and it caused him to stumble back a pace, spilling a few drops of hot kava onto his hand. He didn’t feel it, his throat simply went tight and cut off his voice.

Saren placed the tool he was using down onto the table, and the movement was enough to break Garrus out of the reverie. His gaze snapped upward to Saren’s. The older turian’s expression read like concern. It looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. Saren simply waited.

Garrus had meant to say something intelligent or caring when he’d first decided to bring kava, instead, an offhand comment fell into the air between them.

“You didn’t make dinner.”

Saren’s expression flashed confusion for a moment, his mandibles fluttering against his face and his eyes narrowing. The look was not at home on his plates at all and it quickly disappeared under the passive mask that usually adorned his features. Before Saren could break his silence, Garrus forced himself to walk deeper into the room, burying his memories and allowing the door to close behind himself.

The suite was large, a turian-styled bed sitting against the right wall along with a few crates of what looked like personal supplies. Two curved couches took up space in the centre of the room and a wall of bookshelves covered the left-hand side. It appeared as though Saren had taken over the space of his own volition. The baseline styling screamed Cerberus, like the rest of the ship, whereas the touches he’d added on his own like the area rug beneath the couch and the blanket thrown over the back of it said Saren.

Holding out the kava, Garrus waited for Saren to take it. The biotic did so hesitantly and was careful to keep his talons to himself as he took the mug. Garrus reached into his pocket with his freed hand and then offered the ration bar next with a small, shy smile. Saren put the kava down next to his arm and took that too, allowing his bare talons to run along Garrus’ on the second pass.

Garrus felt a chill run up his spine and his breath caught in his throat until Saren pulled away with the bar in hand. The reverberating hum of gratitude did nothing to stabilize the chill. If anything the tingling sensation grew stronger and made his heart race. He couldn't put a name to the way he felt. It was inexplicable.

Taking a step away, Garrus turned to go. He had been planning to leave. He  _ really  _ had. But then Saren surprised him by saying: “Stay.”

The word wasn’t an order, nor was it a question. It was spoken as a simple request, a want and not a need. Garrus didn’t have it in him tonight to deny the biotic that. “Alright.”

Garrus took a seat on the couch opposite Saren. The white leather creaked beneath his weight, still new and hardly broken in. For once he was glad for the time armour sealant took to cure. It meant he’d worn civilian clothing and without the physical armour, it was easier to let himself relax. The soothing tones of asari instrumental music in the background helped too.

His eyes flashed across Saren. The biotic was also dressed down, even more than he was. The charcoal pants he wore were meant for sleeping and he wasn’t wearing boots nor a shirt beneath the soft grey robe that rested over his shoulders. Again, his eyes fell to the prosthetic limb. Now that the initial shock had passed, he noted it was made of a black carbon fibre and silver cable lines wound through it along the joints where it would bend and flex like a real turian arm.

He took his time looking at Saren, his eyes following along his bare chest to the empty space where the arm should have been. The sleeve of his robe was empty. There was a certain intimacy to the moment. Something that Garrus felt like he was intruding on and he felt his neck grow warm. He was sure it had tinged blue.

First, Saren took a sip of the kava and hummed an appreciative note while refocusing on his project. It appeared as though the limb needed some minor adjustments as he worked a spudger into the elbow joint. Garrus let his gaze shift back to the viewport to watch the stars.

The celestial bodies shone brightly and kept his attention while Saren worked quietly. After a few minutes, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him tear the packaging of the ration bar open with his talons before breaking off a bite to eat. Saren ate slowly, between sips of kava.

When Garrus allowed himself to fully look over at him, he noticed the other male’s gaze hadn’t shifted in the slightest. Saren was intently focused on his prosthetic until the bar was gone and his kava ran dry. The act of sitting together quietly after so long apart stirred something inside the sniper that he'd thought was long buried. Saren was allowing himself to be vulnerable in his presence. He’d asked him to stay.

A thought struck Garrus: They had never done this before. All of the other times they’d met it had been under the weight of the Reapers. At first it was the guise of the investigation, then for sex or battle. Somehow, he’d developed feelings for a turian he hardly knew. A hand rose to drag through the blades of his fringe and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. This was the first time they just sat together.

Garrus found it easier to relax than he’d expected it to be, especially after the momentary panic when he’d come into the suite. He wasn’t quite sure why, whether it was Saren’s presence or the music and the stars. He considered the environment and realized that for the first time in weeks or more, he was warm. The temperature here was greater than the rest of the ship and even the main battery was cool, comparatively. Saren must have changed the environmental controls. It was no wonder he was comfortable in such loose clothing.

For the better part of ten minutes, they sat together in silence with only music filling the air and the drive core humming along beneath them.

Saren eventually sat back on the couch, his project finished. Pushing his robe off of his shoulder, he took the repaired arm in his real hand and brought it to the empty socket on his left side. Garrus couldn’t help but watch, fascinated by the turian despite his lingering guilt from the Battle of the Citadel. With his chest on display, Garrus could see how little machine was left.

The Reaper technology appeared to have all been removed. Where there were once ports and the wires, now only smooth plate remained. Looking up at his face, he could see that Saren’s mandibles were free to move and they gently fluttered as he breathed. Even his eyes were whole again and they rose from his shoulder once the arm was reattached. Their eyes connected.

Garrus had never known a turian could have eyes so light, a blue paler than snow. This was Saren's true eye colour and he was mesmerized by it. 

The electricity was gone. Serenity took its place.

He wanted to say something. Explain why he’d been so cold and distant. But found the words wouldn’t come to him. Garrus wasn’t ready to talk about Omega. Instead, he finished the cold kava in his mug and stood up. He crossed the space between them and he reached for Saren’s dish.

Before he could take it, Saren’s real hand wrapped gently around his wrist. Garrus stared at it a moment before sliding his gaze up the length of his arm to his face. Though his features remained passive, his eyes spoke volumes. Garrus felt his heart race in his chest and there was a dull thump as he dropped his own mug to the carpeted floor. He was frozen in those glacial depths for a long time.

Eventually, Saren let him go and Garrus still didn’t know what to say. His mandibles fluttered in indecision for a moment before he left without a sound. He ran away.

Only in the safety of the main battery did Garrus allow himself to crumble. With his back flat against the cold, closed doors he slid down to sit on the floor. His face dropped into his hands as he tried to bring himself back under control. He could barely handle Shepard being alive and remain sort of sane, let alone Saren. 

He’d spent months trying to exonerate his lover, through every legal process imaginable. Mountains of paperwork and appeals amounted to nothing. He’d never managed to even see Saren, let alone prove his innocence. No one would listen.

And then he’d been told Saren was dead. 

The memory made the chill of the past two years return. Any warmth he felt while in Saren’s quarters was sapped from his bones and replaced with ice. Garrus shivered despite himself and he wrapped his arms around his knees before letting out a small keen. He hadn’t been able to save Saren, he hadn’t been able to save Shepard. His cases at C-Sec only became harder with his growing ‘fame’ stemming from his part in bringing down the rogue Spectre. 

He hadn’t been able to take being there any longer.

His grieving process took him to Omega where he’d spent two years trying to move on with his life... only to have it turned on its head. Everything had changed. Nothing was as it seemed. He could barely tell which way his fringe pointed anymore, let alone keep control of his emotions.

Earlier he’d attacked Alenko for no reason.

Just now he’d run from Saren at the slightest touch.

_ ‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ _

The myriad of emotions coursing through his veins caused Garrus to feel sick to his stomach, the ration bar sat like a lead weight that he needed to get rid of. Scrambling, the sniper managed to make it to the small garbage can beneath his workbench before vomiting. There wasn’t much there, just enough to warrant throwing up in the first place.

He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and fell back against the wall until he felt stable enough to move. When his panic attack finally subsided, Garrus forced himself up and to the bathroom to clean up. The mess hall remained empty and Saren’s door lock was still green. He ignored it.

Once he was back inside the safety of the main battery, he went to the gunnery terminal and opened his code-set from earlier. Garrus began typing anew. If he was focused, his mind would quiet and maybe the demons would leave him alone.

+-+-+

Saren stared blankly at the door.

He was… confused. He’d thought there had been a thaw between them. Garrus had come of his own volition and brought a peace offering of kava. He’d paid enough attention to know what kind he liked and he'd ensured there was something for him to eat. Garrus still cared.

His gaze dropped down to the mug on the floor. He rose from the couch and picked it up to turn it over in his hands. The metal was still warm and thankfully there was no spill, since Garrus had finished his kava. Taking both mugs with him, Saren left his room for the kitchen where he placed both in the cleaning unit.

The door lock on the main battery gleamed red. He hated it.

It was going to take more time before Garrus was ready to talk and Saren hated that too. Logic told him to wait and his primal brain told him to fight for what he wanted. He felt a coward for leaving him now even though it was the right decision. Garrus had to want him.

Instead of lingering, he returned to his quarters. In the morning he could try again with breakfast. Garrus had missed the evening meal enough to act on it. That had to mean he appreciated the gesture. Perhaps if he waited in the mess, Garrus would eat with him.

The sheets were warm and soft as he slid between them. So much better than the threadbare blanket and flat mattress he’d been forced to sleep on while incarcerated. Despite having the ability to sleep anywhere, he took his luxuries where he could find them: food, clothing, bedding. It was the finer things in life that were worth living for. Until Garrus, he’d never expected to find someone worth sharing it with.

He fell asleep with that thought at the forefront of his mind and was surprised when he woke up after a dreamless sleep. After Horizon, he’d expected nightmares. 

To say he was shaken by Harbinger calling his name would be an understatement. Since waking on Purgatory, and Shepard bringing him on to the team, there had been a nagging fear that a reappearance of the Reapers would cause him to relapse to his indoctrinated state. His mind was his own only so long as they allowed it. But he’d felt nothing when he’d been told to obey. It was comforting, in a way. 

Saren rose from the sleep-warmed sheets and stretched out, moving through his morning routine with a fluidity that came from years of practice. Checking his omnitool, he noted it was later than he’d usually sleep and his stomach promptly informed him he hadn’t eaten enough after the energy expenditure the day prior.

Dressing in warm casuals, he left his quarters for the mess. Shepard was sitting at the table with Lawson discussing something and he waved as Saren passed him. The rest of the human crew had finished eating and left for duty and the cook was stacking the last of the utensils in the cleaning unit. Ever since the human, Gardner, realized that Saren knew how to prepare his own food and was loathe to let others touch it, he’d left him to his own devices.

Gardner made space for him in the small kitchenette and kept to himself as he finished his own work. He was one of the few humans who didn’t fear him on sight alone anymore. That list was few: Shepard, Chakwas, Jack, and Lawson, as far as he’d observed.

Beginning work on the meal, he forced himself to remain focused on the knife slicing through the breakfast meats instead of allowing his gaze to rise to the locked battery door. He’d spent enough time staring at it over the past weeks and he wasn’t about to start doing it in front of Shepard.

That didn't keep him from being hyper aware of the door… or of when it opened while his back was turned.

“Garrus!” Shepard called out from the table. He followed the human’s sightline to see that the named turian had left the confines of the battery and was walking down the stairs.

“Shepard,” he greeted in return, bypassing the kitchenette.

Feeling he’d been ignored, Saren pricked his tongue on the edge of his teeth to keep himself silent and went back to preparing the meal. He considered not making enough for two but banished that idea as fast as it came. He wasn’t going to be petty.

Behind him, the sniper had approached the table and was talking with the humans. They discussed their plans for Illium for a few minutes while Saren put the meats on to cook. Lawson mentioned wanting to speak privately and three sets of footsteps came toward the Cerberus Operative’s quarters. Only one veered off.

A low, bass rumble of  _ good morning _ , caused the biotic’s hands to slow. Saren returned it without looking up. He could feel a thread of relief working its way into his hide. It was too bad the meats were at a critical point in the cooking process, otherwise, he’d have tried to interact with Garrus. His hands paused for the briefest moment over the tongs before he picked them up and moved the meal around in the pan. It might have actually been a good thing he was focused elsewhere.

Garrus moved around him, starting the water boiling and preparing two mugs. He paused over the pouches of kava, his hand hovering a few centimetres away before he grabbed the same ones as the night prior. They were getting low. Saren made a mental note to acquire more when they docked.

They didn’t speak. Saren finished making breakfast and Garrus the kava. Before long they sat down at the table across from one another, still silent. Without the whistle of the kettle and the sizzling of the pan, only the drive core could be heard humming away beneath them.

A note of gratitude fell into Garrus’ subvocal tones as he ate, one that Saren returned as he sipped from his mug. Their relationship remained strained but at the least, they could now be in the same room. It was a weight off his chest.

When they finished eating, Garrus reached out and took the empty plate. This time, Saren didn’t touch him. The ground was too precarious between them and the mess hall too public a location. Even with the dishes stacked in front of him, he might’ve stayed but their peace was ruined by the sound of the elevator door opening and a familiar pair of booted feet clomping into the room. 

Saren twisted to see Jack coming around the corner. By the time he turned back to Garrus, he was already standing to leave. “Thanks for breakfast,” he hummed his appreciation along with the words and took the dishes to the kitchen. “Morning, Jack.”

“Mhmm... hi,” she yawned as she rubbed her eyes and moved around Garrus to find her own meal. She came up with a mug of black coffee and a box of cereal. Both of which she brought to the table.

She sat down in the seat that the sniper had occupied and put her feet on the chair next to her. What her problem was with sitting like a normal human… he didn’t know. Garrus disappeared into the battery again and the door lock switched from green to red.

Growling in annoyance, Saren picked up his nearly empty kava mug and took another sip.

Jack had her hand stuck into the box and she ate the dried pellets with her fingers. From how he’d seen the other humans eat that particular food, that wasn’t normal either. One of her brows raised and she twisted to look at the door before turning back to Saren.

“I don’t quite understand what you see in him,” she mused before taking another handful of cereal. “He’s cute… but he’s got the personality of a brick.”

The turian’s shoulders lowered and he levelled a glare at her. 

She sighed, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose it works with your shining personality though, huh, Birdy?”

Saren’s mandibles shifted into a snarl and he let out the growl of displeasure that had been sitting behind his teeth. How  _ dare _ she…

“I rest my case,” Jack grinned around the lip of her mug, eyes alight with amusement at his expense. “You two need to fuck or something. Just chill out.”

For a moment, Saren just stared at her. Then, with both palms on the table, he forced himself up and without a word he left. He wasn’t about to dignify her comments with an answer, nor subject himself to more abuse. 

The thaw between himself and Garrus was precarious at best. No matter how much he wanted to barge into the battery and fuck some sense into the younger turian, he couldn’t. Garrus needed time and he’d just have to wait a little longer.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late by the time Garrus came around. They were on a suicide mission after all. 

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  Their eyes connected and Saren asked the question he’d voiced so many times before. This time, he hoped he’d get an honest answer.
> 
> “Are you afraid of me, Garrus?”
> 
> He looked away like he was afraid of the reaction he was going to get. “What if I am?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Hold me now - Red (Recalibrated version)**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5nap2Gy7Aw)
> 
> Companion Oneshot: [**Sins and Spirits**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960098)

**Faults and Fortitude - 5**

\- - -

“Back off, Shepard!”

Saren’s head snapped up from reassembling his rifle. Not in all the weeks he’d been on the _Normandy_ had he ever heard sounds coming from the hallway outside his room. The bulkheads were thick. Garrus’ voice shouldn’t have been able to penetrate through the doors. He dropped the parts on his work table and stood up. That was… concerning.

The door slid open to more yelling.

“-don’t want to talk about it!”

He followed the voices into the mess hall. Garrus was standing at the top of the stairs to the battery, while Shepard was at the base with his back to the mess. Both were in armour. It was undamaged, indicating their mission on Illium likely wasn’t the issue. It was the human dinner hour and the mess was packed with the crew. All of whom were watching the pair with keen interest. Saren felt his jaw shift in discontent. A turian crew would have known better and focused their attention elsewhere.

“Garrus, just hang on a minute…,” Shepard began, trying to placate him.

“Fuck off, Shepard!” The turian half-turned before reaching the door, the expression on his face not at all what Saren expected to see. He could hear the rage but his face didn’t match. In the set of his mandibles and the tilt of his eyes, all Saren could see was heartbreak. He felt his own mandibles go loose in sympathy.

When Garrus noticed that Saren was watching, he recoiled and cut off his second voice before disappearing behind the battery door. The lock flashed red. He was gone.

Saren watched Shepard deflate as he was shut out. The human released a heavy sigh and held an armoured hand against the back of his neck as he shook his head. When the Spectre turned to see the crew watching the exchange, he snarled at them almost as viciously as Garrus had at him.

“Get back to work.”

Never before had Saren seen the humans move so quickly back to their meals and tasks. Shepard met his gaze and Saren tilted his head toward his quarters. Despite the long, exasperated exhale Shepard made, he nodded and followed. The door closed behind them and Saren waited for an explanation.

The human walked across the room to stand at the viewport. He rested his forearm against the clear window, resting his weight into it. Saren watched him, his head tilted in question. He was patient for the first few moments. He wanted answers and scaring Shepard off would garner him none.

When the pair left the ship earlier in the cycle to speak with another old crewmate, Liara T’Soni, they’d appeared in good spirits. While at breakfast, Garrus had even gone so far as to make conversation. For the first time, they hadn’t eaten in silence. Albeit, Jack was there, too, and she was the one who asked about Garrus’ sniper rifle… but that was beside the point.

“Well?” Saren prompted after a few minutes of silence, his curiosity getting the better of him. The word wasn’t spoken with malice, simply impatience. He wanted to know what had happened to make his partner so enraged. It was the most emotion he’d ever seen in Garrus, except maybe on the Citadel when they’d been buried under the pile of rubble.

“Liara had information about what happened on Omega,” Shepard’s jaw clenched and released a few times. Saren could see the muscles working. “It didn’t go down like Garrus thought it had.”

Saren blinked. That wasn’t at all what he expected. Although, he didn’t really know what he had expected. “Elaborate.”

Shepard shifted his weight and pushed off the viewport. Turning to face him, his eyes were pinched with worry like Saren had never seen in him before. He and Shepard weren’t friends but seeing the human open up to him like this felt strange. Like Shepard was relying on him for reasons beyond tearing enemies apart.

“It’s not my place to say.”

His subvocals sounded off in warning. “Shepard-”

With a wave of his hand, the Spectre cut the biotic off. “No. I don’t even know all the details of what happened on Omega. He won’t talk to me about it. Not in enough detail to explain it to you, at any rate. I….” He paused, seeming unsure of himself. “Maybe you can try?”

Saren considered the request. He was a little shocked that the human was willing to ask for his help and a little hopeful that Shepard believed he had a better chance at getting answers. His relationship with Garrus was tenuous at best for the moment but there had to be a way to break through without just talking….

“I have an idea.”

“Alright,” Shepard appeared relieved, a small smile appearing on his face while his shoulders softened. “What can I do?”

Saren walked over to his supply crates and started to pull out the things he’d need. “Clear out the cargo bay of your personnel, I expect us to need some space.” When Saren turned back around, he saw Shepard watching him skeptically. “If you weren’t aware, Shepard, your people don’t prepare for high-risk operations the way turians do.”

“Alright, humour me. How do turian crews get ready for high-risk missions?”

“With violence,” Saren said. He folded his hands behind his back and explained: "Turian officers have no need to micromanage their crew's off hours. The Hierarchy has high performance standards, but commanders understand that stress relief is important for unit cohesion. Crews usually channel it into training, combat sims, sparring...whatever helps them focus."

“You mean turian ships have crewmen fighting each other before a mission?”

“Yes.”

“What about injuries?” Shepard asked, a little skeptical of his explanation. He’d adopted his usual standing position, a hip cocked back and arms crossed over his chest.

Saren flicked his crest at the inane question. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Between Garrus and Jack, the human gesture was rubbing off on him. “No one is going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. It’s the best way to settle a Spirit before a fight.”

Obviously, Shepard saw where he was going with this. “I don’t like this idea.”

“Your idea failed,” Saren reminded him, his tone blunt. “If you had a better one, you wouldn’t have come to me.”

Shepard was about to reply but cut himself off, the rebuttal apparently not good enough to voice. The Spectre’s brow furrowed and his hand rubbed his bottom jaw as he considered further. Saren turned back to the supply crate, taking out the tight pair of training pants he was planning to change into.

“Wait a minute.”

Saren stopped and shifted his gaze up before flicking his mandible in question. Annoyed that Shepard was still in his quarters, let alone still bothering him. “What?” he snapped.

“So… that’s what you were _using_ Garrus for? Stress-relief?”

The weight of Shepard’s words felt like someone had just snapped his mandible clean off of his face. Dropping the clothing, he snarled and took a menacing pace toward the human. “I wasn’t using Garrus.”

“No?” Shepard replied. The threat didn’t scare him, he didn’t back off. In fact, he took a step forward to challenge the turian instead. “Sure sounds like it to me.”

“Do not speak about what you do not understand, human.”

“I understand just fine, Saren,” Shepard defended, gesturing to his own chest before pointing at him. “I think it’s you who doesn’t. It’s been over a month and you haven’t even tried to speak with him of your own volition. I remember the marks you left after Noveria. You treated him like a scratching post. Your ‘violence’ went too far.”

Saren was taken aback physically as well as mentally, horrified that Shepard would accuse him of taking advantage. The mood in the room had shifted so suddenly that he felt off-kilter. Saren pulled himself up to his full height, towering over the human. He growled: “Let that be for him to decide, not you.”

“Then _show_ that you care,” Shepard barked. “He deserves better than to be ignored.”

Again, Saren growled in displeasure. His spine went rigid and his mandibles flared out in warning. “You’re wrong. I haven’t ignored him-” Before he could argue, Shepard accused him of even more wrongdoing. There wasn’t time to defend himself properly.

“What do you call this, then?” He gestured around the room with open arms. “The only thing I see you do is make meals. Something you’d have to do regardless. You don’t try to talk to him, you don’t find excuses to spend time together. You exercise at different times. How I see it, you-”

“Stop,” Saren hissed. Obviously the human was blind to the nuances of the situation if he thought that forcing himself into Garrus' space would help anything at this point. Not to mention, he was missing what Saren _was_ doing and remained disinterested in listening. “Get the cargo bay emptied. I’ll deal with Garrus.”

As the biotic started for the door, Shepard stopped him with an outstretched arm. “You’re not fighting him unsupervised. I won’t risk an injury that interferes with the mission.”

“Jack.”

“What?”

“Jack can supervise.”

Before Shepard could argue, Saren shoved him out of the way and left his quarters, making a beeline for the forward battery. He wasn’t going to stand around and listen to more abuse or be accused of being a rapist. Garrus had consented to their coupling. He'd come of his own free will. His methods on how to help Garrus were different than Shepard’s own. That was all.

Perhaps, the human was right in one sense. Saren was done waiting.

The door lock shone a brilliant red when he stopped at the top of the stairs. Already, his omnitool was out and ready to hack the doors. The AI surprised him by unlocking it for him.

_“Commander Shepard has granted you access, Arterius.”_

He didn’t reply. Instead, he strode straight into the battery to see Garrus standing at the computer terminal. His shoulders rounded and head tilted downward to stare at the monitor. Though, his hands weren't busy against the keys. They gripped the sides of the console hard enough to make the metal protest beneath them, his gauntlets creaking.

“I told you already, Shepard, I don’t-” he turned and cut himself off. “Saren…?”

“Change into training clothes,” he said by way of greeting. “I need to spar and no one else on this ship is capable.”

Garrus’ fringe flicked in a negative, a frustrated and dismissive note falling from his throat. “Not now, Saren. I’m in the middle of some calibrations.”

Saren barely managed to hold back his snarl. He was not about to let Garrus ignore him now. Not after putting up with Shepard. Not after weeks of silence. The temptation to charge him, here in the forward battery, grab him by the fringe. It would be easy to catch him by surprise, throw him against the wall and-

“AI, what efficiency are the main guns running at?” Saren bit out instead, cutting off the traitorous thoughts before they had time to blossom.

 _“137% the manufacturer's recommended guideline, Arterius,_ ” it replied.

The sniper’s eyes narrowed and his mandibles flared a little in menace. “I’d kill you,” he said, repeating Saren’s own words from a lifetime ago back to him.

“Then I’d deserve it. Come,” the biotic turned his back and headed down the hallway toward the elevator. After a moment, he heard pieces of armour from behind him clatter against the metal floor and he halted. Once the noise stopped, a pair of bare taloned feet echoed along the corridor until Garrus met him at the top of the small staircase.

He led the way to the elevator. Ignoring the humans watching them.

Saren looked over at him, sidelong when they entered the lift. Garrus was bare to the waist, even his visor was removed. Burn scars marred the right side of his chest and neck where the bandages had been removed. Additional scars weaved patterns around his abdomen and back; a blade had broken hide under his ribs, a bullet had gone through his bicep, a plate on his chest had been cracked in two and healed badly, fire had licked him in places, warping the smooth hide Saren remembered.

Now was not the time to focus on those marks. It would come later if Garrus would allow it.

In the cargo bay, Jack was waiting for them. Shepard must have called her while he was fetching Garrus. She sat alone on top of a pile of crates on the right-hand side where mats had been haphazardly thrown down for exercise. She didn’t look up from whatever she was doing on her omnitool.

“Rules?” Garrus barked as he stepped foot on the mats and turned to face his opponent.

Saren pulled off his own shirt and kicked his boots to the side. The loose pants he wore would be sufficient for this, despite being easy to grab at. With Shepard’s words back in his quarters, Saren had forgone changing and wrapping his hands. “Standard,” he said. “Fight for the pin, no biotics.”

“So… what am I here for, then?” Jack asked with a raised chin, her gaze travelling from one turian to the other critically.

“To ensure we don’t kill one another,” Saren told her. “Blood is allowed. If either of us calls for a halt or taps the mat three times deliberately you stop the match.”

“Alright, well… this should be fun.” She stood up and walked up between them, her hand raised up and as she dropped it, she said: “Fight!”

There was no hesitation in Garrus, his hands rounded into fists and arms covered his more vulnerable waist as he attacked. The speed at which he moved was new, faster than the last time they’d fought together. Saren dodged back from the first swipe of talons and brought his arm up to block Garrus’ follow-up.

The strength behind his movements was intense. There was no warm-up period this time. Saren had to come back with strikes of the same weight, all of which Garrus easily dealt with. He didn’t fight like a Hierarchy-trained soldier anymore. It was different, unrefined, yet effective. Months of incarceration did Saren no favours, and he was out of practice. And Omega had toughened Garrus in more ways than one: there was no hesitation in him. This was not a friendly match.

A second offensive attempt had drawn first blood, Saren’s forearm split open under Garrus’ sharp talons. He drew in a tight breath. He hadn’t expected it to intensify so quickly.

“Are you done?” the sniper spat as he flicked the cobalt blood off his talons, leaving a spatter across the mat.

Saren raised his arm a little to look at the fresh gash. It would need medigel but it was no worse than the cuts he’d left on Garrus in the past. “We’ve barely begun.”

It was Saren’s turn to push in. Heedless of the blood he left behind, he moved in and attacked. Garrus dodged him without difficulty and tripped him up by locking their spurs. Snarling, Saren backed off to regain his balance. At the side of the ring, Jack was doing her best to appear nonchalant about the vicious goings-on in the ring. Her eyes flicked up from her omnitool occasionally, but otherwise, she remained passive.

The second time one of Garrus’ powerful strikes drew blood it was at Saren’s bicep. He didn’t increase the power more than that. There was no need. Saren matched him.

They traded blows until both were breathing hard. Garrus came in fast all of a sudden, taking Saren out at the waist and dropping him to the floor. They missed the mats, his plates cracking hard against the metal deck. Saren felt all of the air leave his chest and he kicked Garrus back.

The sniper backed off to circle Saren as he allowed him to rise to his feet. Garrus was like an animal toying with its prey. Vicious and unrelenting. He snarled, broadcasting the attack before he lunged again.

Try as Saren might, he couldn’t keep up. Garrus had gotten stronger since they last fought in hand-to-hand combat. Faster. Meaner. He held nothing back. A second time, Saren’s back hit the ground. This time, Garrus followed him down and a flurry of talons came at Saren’s face that he barely managed to block.

Left with little choice, Saren grabbed one of Garrus' arms, sacrificing a block in order to destabilize his opponent. Then, raising his hips off the floor he switched their positions around, his opponent's back hitting half-on and half-off the mats. Garrus was quick enough to ensure his fringe didn’t clack against the metal.

They struggled for a few minutes, jockeying for position. Garrus kicked Saren’s leg out from under him and rolled out from beneath him to get back to his feet. The biotic followed, wiping a trail of cobalt off his chin.

The second Saren was standing, Garrus went at him again with a snarl. This time, they grappled while on their feet. Saren trapped Garrus’s hands with his own and didn’t expect it when Garrus brought his knee up to impact his unplated abdomen. A dirty hit, something _his_ Garrus would never have done.

Grunting from the impact, Saren used his prosthetic arm to his advantage. He forced Garrus’ own arm into an unnatural position and it made him let go. Saren stepped in, tossing Garrus over his hip and onto the deck. He followed him down and played the game just as dirty as his metal fist impacted the damaged side of Garrus’ face.

The sniper howled with pain and lashed out, missing by a wide margin.

The rage only seemed to get worse. Garrus moved faster as he kicked out with his taloned feet. He caught Saren’s knee and brought him tumbling down to the deck. Before Saren could counter, his arms were pinned and Garrus’ jaws were opened, descending upon his throat.

_Too far._

Without thinking, Saren stopped him with his biotics. The stasis field surrounded the younger turian stopping him from going any further. Garrus snarled and gnashed his teeth, unable to move.

Saren’s heart was racing in his chest, the fear response at having an aggressor's teeth so close to his throat taking over and putting him into survival mode. He knew Garrus was furious. The entire point of the spar was to allow him an outlet.

He’d underestimated him

“You _barefaced_ piece of shit,” Garrus seethed. “Let me go.”

Saren pulled his arm free and used a sweep of his hand to throw Garrus off. He wasn’t gentle. The biotic throw landed Garrus in the pile of crates beside the ones Jack was sitting on. The crack of plates against steel echoed in the cargo bay. Saren pushed himself up onto an elbow, breathing hard.

Jack looked between Garrus and Saren before standing. “I feel like you’ve got this. I’m… just gonna go.”

Silently, Saren agreed that it was probably for the best. He rose to his feet and waited for Garrus to do the same. The sniper took his time, moving like he’d been hurt more than Saren had intended. He didn’t remain on his feet long. Instead, he swayed and sat against the edge of one of the crates, holding his injured mandible. Blood seeped out from between his fingers.

Saren almost felt bad. _Almost._ He walked across the cargo bay, stopping a metre back from Garrus.

The sniper’s gaze shifted up to look at him. The heat was gone, bitterness took its place. “The fuck do you even want, Saren?”

“Tell me what happened on Illium,” Saren said.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Why?”

Saren took a deep inhale, trying to compose himself before attempting an explanation. “I’d like to help you if you’ll let me.”

“Why did you even come back?” he ignored Saren, with his voice barely above a whisper. “You were dead. Shepard was dead…” he paused to wipe a trail of blood off his chin. “I should have been dead too, with my squad. Because of you, I’m not.”

“I wasn’t going to let you die in that cesspool, Garrus.”

“You should have.”

“Enough!” Saren growled. “You didn’t let me die. You risked your life for mine.”

Pulling his hand away from the bandages on his face, he gestured to the bloodied wound. “And look where that got me. I tried to find you, then you were dead.”

“I wasn’t dead, Garrus. The Council put me in cryo on Purgatory and left me there to rot until they needed me. Shepard only happened upon me. He was there for Jack. My choices were limited: join Shepard or get spaced.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“ _Everything_.” Saren closed the distance between them, grabbing hold of his keel with one hand and shoving him against the crates. Garrus didn’t fight the hold, his hands both falling to his sides. “Why don’t you understand, Garrus? I’m only alive because of _you_ . _You_ broke _Sovereign’s_ control over me. _You_ stopped me from shooting myself in the head. It was _your_ face I remembered when the Council blinded me while the Reaper technology was removed.”

Garrus met his eyes. “I… I don’t….”

“Stop, Garrus.” Saren damn-near pleaded. “Just for a minute.” He leaned in to press his crest against the younger male’s. His real hand slid up to wrap around the back of Garrus’ neck to gently keep him there. The hold wasn’t enough to immobilize him, only to encourage. “I want to know what I missed. Tell me.”

Some of the tension went out of his shoulders and Garrus’ eyes fell closed. The slightest pressure was returned and Saren hummed a warm note of comfort between them.

“I got my squad killed,” he said, pulling away to stare at the floor beyond Saren. Garrus’ eyes went unfocused, almost fogged into the middle distance. His voice was pained, yet open, this time he didn’t try to hide half of his meaning. “It was my own damn fault. One of my people betrayed me.”

“How?”

“He drew me away just before the mercs attacked my squad, then he disappeared. Everyone except me is dead because of him. And because I didn’t see it coming.”

Saren waited quietly for him to continue. He didn’t want him to stop and interrupting might cause him to wall himself off again.

Eventually, when he was ready, Garrus continued. “Sidonis asked for my help on a job. When I got to the meeting point, nobody was there. By the time I got back to our hideout, the mercs had killed all but two of my squad. And they didn't last long. He tipped off the mercs. Told them where our base was.”

“You’re certain it was a betrayal?” he hated asking the question, but he needed to know why Garrus was so sure of himself. “They could have captured and tortured Sidonis first. It’s what I would have done.”

“No.” he snapped, meeting Saren’s gaze again. There was a fire in his eyes this time. “I put out feelers with some old contacts. He booked transport off Omega just before the attack. He cleared out his private accounts before he left. He sold us out and ran.”

“Where is he now?”

“I’ve found a lead on him. That’s what happened on Illium. Liara found him. There’s a specialist on the Citadel; name’s Fade. He’s an expert at helping people disappear. Sidonis was seen with him.”

“What are you planning to do when you find him?”

“The humans have a saying: ‘An eye for an eye.’ A life for a life.” Garrus let out a breath as he stood up, pushing Saren off. The biotic let him go. When he reached the elevator, he stopped and held onto the door frame for support. “He owes me ten lives. I plan to collect.”

Without another word, he stepped into the lift and the door closed behind him, leaving Saren alone in the cargo bay. They’d finally moved forward but all it did was make Saren wish _his_ Garrus would come back and this… _imposter_ would go back to wherever it came from.

Walking across the cargo bay, he picked up his tunic and boots with his unbloodied arm. He’d need to see the doctor for medigel and figure out some way to ensure Garrus did too. It hadn’t been his intention, going into the match, to attack his injuries. It was Saren’s fault. Garrus had told him, no, and it was him that goaded the younger turian into fighting. He shouldn’t have pushed so hard in an uncontrollable environment. A sim would have been better.

Once inside the elevator, he waited patiently for the lift to ascend to the crew deck. Saren headed for the medical bay where the doctor was already waiting for him.

“Back so soon, Arterius?” she greeted, spinning in her chair.

His brow plate rose skeptically and he eyed the blue orb that had appeared beside the doors. The AI must have informed her, or Shepard. It didn’t matter. “A minor scrape,” Saren told her, raising his bloodied forearm in explanation. “I can deal with it myself.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Chakwas gestured to the beds. “Take a seat.”

He growled in mild annoyance, yet took a seat as directed. Other than Shepard, she was the only one he took care not to argue with. Her care could become a necessity on this mission. The doctor walked over after gathering a small kit and putting on a pair of gloves. She didn’t meet his eyes, only kept her attention on the wound.

“Care to explain how you managed this?”

Saren pricked his tongue on the back of his teeth to stop himself from biting out an insult. “No,” he replied instead, stifling the mild growl of annoyance that threatened to fall from his throat.

She hummed an affirmative noise but was otherwise silent as she cleaned his arm and applied plastic sutures to help close the break. Her care meant it wouldn’t scar as it might’ve otherwise with only medigel. Next, she moved on to the cut on his bicep.

The silence between them was somehow comfortable. Or it _was_ until she broke it.

“I assume there’s another patient I need to see?”

Saren’s nasal plates shifted as he sighed. She wasn’t wrong. Chakwas seemed to understand his silence and turned her attention to the doors, addressing the AI: “EDI, call Garrus to the medical bay.”

The AI responded and winked out. The Doctor turned her attention back to Saren’s arm and finished her work by securing a bandage around his bicep.

“Perhaps I should go,” he told her.

Chakwas met his gaze, her mouth flattening into a disapproving line. “Or perhaps I should. You’re capable, are you not?”

He was about to answer, opening his mouth to bite out a reply but it didn’t matter. Just then EDI reappeared. _“I apologize, Doctor, Officer Vakarian has refused medical treatment.”_

The sentient pair shared a look. Saren knew at that moment he was about to be sent on a mission. No words were spoken. She merely passed him a medical kit and crossed her arms over her chest, watching him leave with an air of disapproval.

Saren passed through the empty mess hall and stepped up to the locked main battery door.

He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes to maintain his composure before touching the call button. Her disapproving look was the first he’d received since he was a fledgling that he actually felt a touch of remorse for. He hadn’t meant to hurt Garrus… well, he had in the moment he punched him but not going into the match.

It was his duty now to fix his mistake. Garrus shouldn’t have refused medical treatment. He had to know that neither the Doctor nor Shepard would stand for it.

The biotic’s shoulders dropped and he waited for the door to open. After a few moments of silence, the AI unlocked it for him and he stepped inside.

Garrus wasn’t standing at his habitual console. When Saren looked right, he was seated on the crates and holding a blood-soaked rag to his face. His mandible was still bleeding a half hour later.

“What do you want?” Garrus snapped.

Saren stepped in far enough for the door to close. His brow plate rose as he held up the medical kit and stepped closer. “To fix what I damaged.”

The sniper snorted, taking double meaning from his words. “It’s not that easy.”

“I am aware.”

Closing the distance, Saren placed the medical kit down on the crate beside Garrus. Unclasping the case, he spread the kit out and found a clotting agent to first stop the worst of the bleeding. Garrus refused to look at him, his eyes fixed to the far wall. He paid it no mind and set to his task.

Saren moved Garrus’ hand away from his face, cognizant of his wince as he let go of the abused mandible. The older turian said nothing, only began spraying the broken hide with the coagulant. After that, he cleaned the blood from the wound and noticed that the bandage had been soaked through. It’d need to come off.

As he began working the weave away from the side of Garrus’ face he felt the younger male begin to protest before he heard the pleading subvocal sound that came along with it: _Please don’t._ Garrus’ hands had moved to his arm, weakly pushing him away. There was no strength behind it, as if was too tired to fight.

“Let go,” Saren ordered.

Garrus’ head tilted away, surrendering as his hands fell to his sides. Saren stopped. This isn’t what he wanted. It felt too much like what Shepard accused him of being earlier: a user. He watched Garrus’ face for a few moments, waiting for some kind of reaction. Eventually, he did look up if only to see why Saren had stopped attending his wounds.

Their eyes connected and Saren asked the question he’d voiced so many times before. This time, he hoped he’d get an honest answer.

“Are you afraid of me, Garrus?”

He looked away like he was afraid of the reaction he was going to get. “What if I am?”

Saren felt his gizzard drop. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be feared, not by Garrus.

Sickness boiled in his stomach as a cold realization dawned on him like an unforgiving storm. It was entirely possible that Garrus had felt this way throughout their entire relationship. And between the months of incarceration and years of indoctrination, Saren could have mentally warped what they were in order to suit his own needs.

They might never have had had a real relationship at all. Garrus telling him that they’d merely ‘fucked a couple of times’ could be entirely true.

Saren took a breath, swallowing down the bile in his throat. Ignoring the lead weight his heart had become, he said: “Simple. I’ll leave. We need not speak again outside of combat.”

The biotic stifled the pained keen that threatened to fall from his vocals when Garrus dropped his eyes to the floor. That was answer enough. Slowly, feeling the weight of his age like never before, he withdrew from Garrus and rose to his feet. Leaving both the medical kit and what was left of his dignity beside the younger turian, he turned and headed for the door for a final time.

“Why-” Garrus began before cutting himself off. It was enough to halt Saren in his tracks. After almost a solid minute in which Saren found himself terrified to move, Garrus found the end of his sentence. “Why are you here?”

That… wasn’t what he expected. Hesitantly, as if quick movements might frighten the other turian, Saren turned to face him. “Were you not listening earlier?” He cautiously took a step forward, alert for even the slightest sign of rejection. Garrus allowed it, so he took another and another until he was at his side once again. Then, slowly so as to give him time to move away should he want to, Saren reached out to cradle Garrus’ undamaged mandible in his clean hand. He wasn’t quite able to keep the relief from of his subvocals when he went on: “I told you.”

“You’re alive because of me, I get that.” Despite the frustration in his tone, Saren began to feel the weight of Garrus’ head in the palm of his hand. “What I don’t understand is why you’re _here_. In the battery with me.”

“Garrus, I… I pushed even after you said no,” Saren told him with a remorseful hum. “I didn’t listen to you as I should have. I should have been there for you and I wasn’t.” Saren shifted his crest, pressing it against Garrus’ gently. It was an apology. As much as he could offer one for all the things that were his fault and those that weren’t. “I want to help you heal.”

“It’s more than I deserve,” Garrus whispered in reply, the words catching in his throat.

Saren inhaled deeply, pulling in the scent of hot metal from the _Normandy’s_ gun and of blood that rested in the air around his partner. There had to be something he could do to change Garrus’ opinion of himself. Telling him he was worthy of attention and care wouldn’t solve the problem. He needed to make him believe it.

“At the least, let me fix what pain I’ve added.”

He felt Garrus nod against him. And only then did he pull back to remove the bandage from his face. Without it, the scars were left entirely on display, worse than those on his neck and shoulder. It looked as though half his face had been torn away with the rocket blast. His hide was warped, the plates scorched. His teeth were visible behind his damaged mandible, all short from having only partly regrown.

The edges of his jaw had been reconstructed, though they were jagged and still growing, raw and painful-looking. This too was his fault. He hadn’t been fast enough. Garrus was maimed because of him. The long-healed scar that bisected his colony markings was still stark against his plates. It was the first line of scarring that covered the rest of his face.

Reaching into the medical kit, Saren found the medigel to smooth across the torn section of hide he’d created. Garrus winced as he worked but remained silent otherwise, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. As the tension fell out of the sniper, exhaustion seemed to settle in its place. Saren listened as his breathing began to even out and the pained buzz faded beneath the ever-present hum of the drive core.

It didn’t take long before Saren was able to replace the soiled bandage with a fresh one and he backed off enough to look Garrus over. A few small scrapes had clotted over on their own, his augments sufficient enough to handle the more minor injuries. He assumed there would be bruising along his back from the throw but there wasn’t anything to be done for that at the moment.

“You should rest,” he told the younger turian.

Garrus hummed an understanding note and pushed himself to his feet to slide past Saren, gratitude thrumming from his second vocals.

Saren watched him head for one of the aisles beside the gun, stepping down beyond the railing. He stopped cleaning up the mess and tilted his head quizzically before he realized that Garrus slept here, in the battery. He pulled out a cot. A flat piece of cloth stretched tight over an aluminum frame.

“No.”

Garrus flinched at the word, his shoulders rising and head ducking between them. It was the first real fear response he’d seen from Garrus. All the times before that Garrus had shied away from him it had been out of surprise or statement. Never fear. He hated it but he wasn’t about to let him sleep on a human styled cot, not when there was a perfectly acceptable turian bed in his quarters. It was no wonder he looked constantly sore and tired. It wasn’t just his injuries.

“Come with me,” Saren said as he rose to full height again. Tomorrow he could deal with the medical kit. Right now, getting Garrus to sleep somewhere warm and comfortable was his priority. Even if it meant he was going to sleep on the couch.

Saren waited at the door until Garrus joined him. The younger turian refused to meet his eyes. He pushed down the anguished feeling sitting on his chest and led the way to his own quarters. The mess was empty still and they’d missed their own evening meal for the sake of the fight. Saren silently vowed to make up for that before he let himself rest.

Upon entering his quarters, he stepped aside and gestured to the bed. “You’ll sleep here.”

Garrus blinked, a note of confusion conveyed through his voice as he turned to the elder turian. He looked like he wanted to ask a question but Saren didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, the biotic left the room and went back to the mess to make them something to eat.

Without thinking, he reached into the box of ration bars and tore open the packaging on one while he began searching the cooling unit for materials. He was hungry, using his biotics earlier and sparring with Garrus had left him with a void in his stomach that he needed to fill before he’d actually taste anything he ate.

He hummed in consideration around the tasteless bar before choosing something easy. He didn’t want Garrus to need to tear off chunks of vat-grown protein with his damaged mouth. In fact, he should have considered the injuries sooner and been making bite-sized meals from the start. More than once he’d left meat in tearable chunks.

Ten minutes later the meal was ready. He made a tisane too, one that encouraged sleeping. Saren headed back to his room with a tray in hand.

+-+-+-+

After Saren left, Garrus slowly made his way to the viewport.

He stared out into the black for a handful of minutes, one hand resting on the cool glass and the other on his freshly bandaged mandible. His mind was stuck on replay. Again and again, he heard Saren asking: _‘Are you afraid of me?’_

The question was burned into his consciousness. He didn’t _want_ to be afraid of Saren. He wanted things to be as they were before Saren had ‘died’ and before Omega had swallowed him whole. But life would never be the same. He would continue to be weighed down by guilt until… until he didn’t know when.

With a growl, he pushed off the window and stared at the bed. As much as he wanted to be alone, it looked so inviting. He remembered Saren’s bed on the Citadel, remembered the bed in the hotel. Both had been so much better than the cot he’d slept on, on the first _Normandy_ and again now, on the second. Perhaps… if only for tonight… he could rest here.

Give in to his baser desire for comfort as Saren offered.

Despite being thrown into a stack of crates and nearly ripping Saren’s throat out, the spar had actually helped. He felt at least a little cooler headed than when he'd yelled at Shepard. If not wholly better. Giving in was easier.

One of Garrus’ hands smoothed the silken grey sheets down. His talons slid through it without catching, so unlike the wool blanket that he used in the forward battery. He left his undersuit pants on and slipped between the covers.

Just as his breaths began to slow and even out, Saren returned.

The ex-Spectre said nothing, only placed a tray down on the edge of the bed and took his own plate to the couch. Saren sat with his back to Garrus and ate. A grumble from his stomach told the sniper he'd best eat too, otherwise, he’d regret it. The food settled his empty stomach and the drink warmed him from the inside.

Once he was done, Saren returned and took the tray away. Again, he remained soundless on his way out the door. Garrus wanted to know why he was trying so hard. He couldn’t understand why Saren kept coming back after he’d ignored him and insulted him in the worst of ways, let alone damn-near killing him. Saren should have shunned him, not offered him shelter.

“Sleep,” Saren ordered when he returned from the mess to see Garrus still sitting up and watching the door.

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked instead.

The biotic’s head cocked to the side, considering the question before he gestured at the couch. “I can leave the room if you pref-”

“No,” Garrus cut him off. Saren blinked, his brow plates dropping low over his eyes in a mildly confused expression. “St-stay. Please.”

“Very well.”

Saren began heading for the couch and Garrus felt his undamaged mandible drop loose in disappointment. He didn’t want to be alone in Saren’s bed, surrounded by his scent and unable to feel his warmth, able to hear him breathe without feeling the dampness of his breath on his hide.

The request to share the comfort of the bed caught in his throat, too hard to voice. Instead, he intoned a needy sound. A wanting hum and he shuffled deeper into the bed, leaving enough room for Saren to join him.

The biotic glanced over, stopping in his tracks at the sound. “Garrus?”

“Don’t leave me alone,” he whispered back.

“I thought…” Saren cut off, his own mandibles going slack as he met Garrus’ eyes. He seemed to understand because he changed course and sat on the edge of the bed. His real hand found Garrus’ cheek and he slid his thumb across the bullet scar from years ago. “Why are you afraid of me?”

Garrus let his eyes fall closed and he pressed his face into Saren’s hand. His own talons wrapped around the arm, holding his ex-lover lightly if only to stop him from withdrawing before Garrus was ready for him to.

“You died,” Garrus breathed.

He heard the rustle of the blankets before he felt Saren’s warmth against his side. The bed dipped toward him a little and Garrus felt himself slide into the divot before Saren rolled him onto his back, never letting go of his cheek even as he remained perched above him. Garrus didn’t open his eyes as he continued:

“I failed you.”

Garrus swallowed down the taste of blood sitting at the back of his throat.

“I couldn’t save you,” Garrus choked out around a keen. “It’s my fault.”

The feeling of Saren’s crest on his own halted his breathing for a moment, stifling the mourning noise that had begun filling the room. The weight of his press and the resounding hum from his chest almost seemed to restart Garrus’ heart. Saren didn’t try to speak. Words couldn’t possibly help his cause. Not now.

Instead, Saren stayed with him. He held him tightly and refused to let go.

When exhaustion finally won out, Garrus fell into a dreamless sleep. Comforted by the unmistakable scent of his partner and wrapped within his warm arms. For the first time since before Omega, he slept through the night.

+-+-+-+

Saren spent the majority of the night watching Garrus sleep. Too amazed that the sniper was in his bed and wanting him to rest. He dozed for a while once Garrus was dead asleep but couldn’t force himself down for more than that.

Garrus had curled himself into his chest, trusting him to keep the demons away while he slept. His sleep was dreamless or at the least, if he did dream then they weren’t nightmares bad enough to rock him. His breaths remained slow and even. At one point, when Saren thought he might be coming to, he caressed his fringe with a light press of talons to soothe him back down. After that, he didn’t budge.

Morning came far too soon.

The sound of Garrus’ slow, even breaths faded as he began to wake. A glance at Saren’s omnitool told him it was time so he didn’t try to keep him asleep. Garrus’ eyelids fluttered a little before he inhaled sharply through his nose and opened his eyes. There was no surprise in them, only gratitude.

“You’re awake?” Garrus mumbled, stifling a yawn. Saren couldn’t stop the small prideful smile that tilted his mandibles, this was the face he’d missed. _His_ Garrus was still in there somewhere. “Did you sleep?”

“Enough,” Saren told him gently.

A raise of Garrus’ brow plate told him he didn’t believe the statement. Yet, he let it drop. Saren felt strangely calm considering Garrus was an unknown in his arms. His surrender the night before could be temporary or the thaw could be whole this time. He didn’t know. Either way, he wasn’t ready for words nor did he didn’t know what to say.

Instead, Saren caressed the sniper’s uninjured mandible and wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck. His subvocals thrummed a warm greeting. Garrus pressed into his palm and let his eyes close again as he returned the vibrating hum.

“Thank you,” Garrus breathed out into the warm air between them.

Saren nuzzled his crest. Words could only ruin the moment so he kept his primary voice quiet even as he shifted his own greeting to gratitude. He was just as thankful, his mind was silent not only of Reapers but of guilt too. For the first time, Saren felt like he could breathe. The tight knot in his gizzard was gone.

“I-” Garrus swallowed and took a deep breath before trying again. “I need your help with Sidonis. I need someone I trust at my back.”

Saren’s paler than pale eyes slid open to look down at Garrus. The longer he waited the harder the other turian’s face became. Garrus was slipping away from him and that beast called ‘Archangel’ was taking his place.

“Very well,” Saren said. “Tell me where.”

“I arranged a meeting with Fade before leaving Illium,” he replied as he slid out of the elder turian’s grasp. Saren felt like he was losing more than his warmth as Garrus pushed off the bed to stand. He started walking to the door but stopped before it opened. Without turning back, he continued. “When we get to the Citadel, we’ll meet him in a warehouse near the Neon Markets, down on Zakera Ward.”

Saren fought the urge to follow him. It was obvious he needed the space despite Saren being reluctant to give it. “Just us?”

Garrus nodded. The movement was sharp and unforgiving. “I won’t have Shepard’s morality fuck this up. My men deserved better.”

Then, he was gone.

Pushing himself out of bed, Saren glared at the door. His muscles felt tight and unwieldy, and his talons itched for a trigger to wrap themselves around. It had been such a brief moment, less than a few minutes where he’d had Garrus back to where they’d been before. Where he remembered them to be in his dreams, wrapped in his warmth to combat the cold of the Noverian blizzard outside.

How cruel the Spirits were to tear the light from his lover’s eyes and replace it with darkness and hatred. It wasn’t who Saren remembered. This Spirit of vengeance and pain did not belong. He hated it. Loathed who Garrus had become in the years he was encased in ice. If taking one life would fix him, then Saren vowed to do everything in his power to make it happen.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  The part of Saren that wasn’t intrigued was beginning to regret agreeing to this.
> 
> Viciousness wasn’t something he would have associated with his partner in their brief time together before his incarceration. Nor was it a trait he’d associate with his Hierarchy Citizenship file or C-Sec records. The younger turian was ruthless when required, and he would kill as ordered to do so and without remorse. But this was different. Something in him had snapped.
> 
> Saren had come to the conclusion that he didn’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Too Late - Dead by Sunrise**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5KDm1G9Ap8)

**Faults and Fortitude - 6**

\- - -

Stepping foot on the Citadel felt like taking a leap backward in time.

Saren’s gaze slid over Zakera Ward customs, catching on a dingy C-Sec holo-sign that was flickering as though it was about to go out. Clearly, no one cared enough to repair it. A sneer pulled at his mandibles as the biotic disappeared into the crowd. He had no desire to linger here longer than necessary. The less time he spent near law enforcement, and in this squalor, the better.

He’d never expected to miss the bright lights and clean lines of the Presidium. But when he was assaulted with smells that reminded him more of Omega, he did. Despite being capable of spending time in the shabbiest places, his preference remained strongly predisposed to upper class and gentrified neighbourhoods.

While Shepard and Garrus continued down the hallway through the Citadel’s main entryway, Saren slipped into a back alley. There was a little-known passage above C-Sec that he and a few other Spectres were aware of. It came in handy from time to time. The pathway led above the customs hall and bypassed the scanners. If it was still open he’d have no trouble at all.

Citadel scanners could be bypassed by Spectres but sometimes having no one know you were aboard the station was necessary, that… and he didn’t exactly have his Spectre status at the moment. The Council likely thought him dead with Purgatory’s destruction. He wanted it to stay that way. If not for Garrus, he would have remained on the ship.

By the time Saren stood silently above the tunnel, he could see the Spectre and sniper through the exhaust fan grating. They’d been stopped by security.

“-apologize for the inconvenience, my Captain should be able to assist you with your ID.”

Curious, Saren followed them along to the next air vent and watched as Garrus stepped up to the Captain’s desk. The computer terminals were the same, the officers -more humans than he remembered- wore matching sets of C-Sec armour as they always had and glancing around he noted a few more fatal flaws, beyond the tunnel, that any seasoned Spectre or smuggler could exploit if it came down to it. Too many of them were residual weaknesses from years ago when he’d last been in the office.

C-Sec was no better for the addition of more humans. If anything, it was worse off.

“I can see the problem already, Vakarian,” the Captain was saying. The use of Garrus’ name garnered the attention of a few other officers milling about. Even at this distance, Saren could see his partner’s hackles raise. “My console says you were reported missing and are presumed dead.” The human’s eyes narrowed in a squint. “I can see they weren’t far off.”

Saren felt his own spine go tight at the insult and he stifled a growl. He couldn’t see Garrus’ face, though he did note that there was no further reaction in his body language. The sniper already knew that he’d been reported missing and the fact he was presumed dead didn’t surprise him. Saren stowed that thought for later. It meant Garrus had deliberately left without a trace, otherwise, C-Sec wouldn’t have investigated or kept notes on his file.

“As you can see,” Garrus said, gesturing to himself. “I’m not.”

Shepard advanced to stand beside Garrus. “You’ve mentioned before these scanners are the best in the galaxy, Bailey. There’s no way to fool them.”

“Fair point, Shepard,” the Captain sighed and looked up at the turian for a moment before dropping his gaze down to the console in from of him. “Sometimes things need to get done without a committee vote.” He pressed a few keys, presumably reinstating the identification code for him. “You’re good to go.”

“That’s great.” The Spectre clasped his friend on the shoulder, turning to grin at him. 

Garrus shrugged him off and turned to go. Saren couldn’t fault his partner for that. He had bypassed security completely rather than wade through the shitstorm that would follow if he was found to be alive. Thinking about it now, he should have brought Garrus with him. Saren hadn’t expected him to be declared dead, too. It did make sense. It had been a well over a year since Garrus fell off the radar.

“Garrus,” Bailey stood up from the desk, calling after him. “You should probably let your old man know that you’re still kicking. He left a note on your file.”

This time, Garrus did tense up. He remained facing the exit as he snarled: “And it’s my right to tell you  _ not _ to contact him.”

The human’s hands rose in surrender and Garrus strode out of the office, Shepard tight on his heels. Saren stowed his helmet and followed them, slipping undetected into the crowded ward and catching up within a hundred metres. Contacts changed his eyes to green and his plates were darkened with concealer to a dull grey and white paint weaved around his mandibles, marking him as a Silonian citizen. Past security, there was no danger walking around in the open. Silonians tended to exhibit zygomatic horns more frequently than the rest of the turian population. He stood out less because of the colony markings.

Shepard gave Garrus a wide berth and when he noticed Saren approaching, he veered off and disappeared to his own duties. That left Saren free to walk beside Garrus and join him on his hunt. The lines of his body were visibly tense beneath his armour, yet his movements remained purposeful and fluid. He was a predator stalking his prey through the brush.

Admittedly, Saren found himself a little enthralled.

Reaching the warehouse was no trouble at all. The meeting was set to take place within the hour and all they had to do now, was wait. It proved easier for him than his partner as Garrus paced.

Saren stood motionless, quietly cataloging the room. It appeared to be a dual purpose space, both a break room and used for additional storage. The door behind them led out to the Ward and one was on the right wall which Saren assumed led to the rest of the warehouse. An air vent provided a third access point but that didn’t concern him. Enemies rarely concerned him anymore and even less so with the addition of Garrus at his side.

Together, Saren knew they could take on anything. They covered one another’s weaknesses and played to their strengths. They were also armoured and helmeted, tougher to takedown because of that alone.

A squat volus strutted -or rather waddled- into the room after a few minutes, flanked by two krogan guards. Sizing them up, Saren’s thoughts were confirmed. They would be no match for his and Garrus’ combined firepower. Scaring them off was simple and he didn’t even need to draw his weapon.

The meeting was brief, the information forthcoming from the Fade stand-in.

“I’m not Fade!”

“Obviously,” Garrus’ mandibles rolled in annoyance as he knelt down to the alien’s level and poked him with a single talon in the middle of his chest, causing the volus to nearly fall over. “Tell us where to find him.”

“Yes! Of course! He’s in the factory district,” the volus wheezed. “Works out of the old prefab foundry. Used to be C-Sec, name’s Harkin.”

Garrus growled a knowing sound, as though he knew the name that the volus spoke. He didn’t voice anything to reference him, however. Saren’s head tilted toward the door before he prompted: “I know it. Let’s move.”

Rising to his full height, Garrus followed him without another word to the volus. The idiotic fake forger muttered something too quiet for Saren to hear but loud enough for the sniper as he snarled and turned on him. “A word about this to anyone and I’ll be back for you next.”

The volus nodded profusely, wheezing through his breather. “I’ll be quiet, I swear!”

Saren couldn’t help the little rise in temperature that came to his throat at Garrus’ voice. It had changed from the one he knew but this time, when the snarl wasn’t directed at him, he couldn’t help feeling intrigued by this side of his partner. This confident, commanding Garrus was new. The context was different from when Garrus told him about the meeting, the shift not so stark as to throw him off balance. Perhaps, not all of this new personality was bad. But that thought was better examined later, Saren followed him back out into the ward.

For now, Garrus led the way to the rapid transit terminal and called a cab for them. One came within a minute or so and they climbed into the front seats. Saren set the location and sat back, removing his helmet in the downtime. After they were underway, Garrus did the same. The trip wasn’t long, maybe five minutes or so, and the autopilot could take them the full distance.

Garrus’ good side was visible and as such his expressions were easier to read even with the visor covering his eye. The scarred side of his face remained less expressive without full use of his mandible and the damage to his facial musculature and nerves. Absently, Saren wondered if he even had sensation still. If it still burned.

As Saren’s eyes finally drifted away from his partner’s face, he could see the tension roiling through him. Garrus’ hands clenched and released around his knees and his uninjured mandible was pulled in tightly to his jaw. Saren needed him to have a clearer head if they were going to be in battle. Without other options, he could only attempt to talk him down from the ledge. Which was, admittedly, not his forte.

”Garrus,” Saren began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. He waited for the sniper’s attention to shift from the windshield. “You appear to be tense.”

He scoffed but answered the unasked question regardless. “Fade might know why Sidonis wanted to disappear. If he knows I’m after him, he might tip him off.”

“Understandable,” Saren conceded. “However we will find him. Regardless of what Fade does. I promise you that.”

“Hm.” Garrus hummed before averting his attention back to the window.

“What more can you tell me about Harkin?” Saren asked in an attempt to keep the conversation moving. “Your reaction to the name suggested you knew him.”

Garrus nodded once without looking back. “He was C-Sec. Human. Dirty cop. Got thrown out of the service just as I quit. He was always a pain in the ass... but I’m in no mood for his games. If he doesn’t cooperate, I’ll beat him within an inch of his life.”

The biotic felt his mandibles descend a little at the suggestion.  _ That _ did not sound like something Garrus would have said two years ago. The rough tone became a little less intriguing and more… concerning. But this was Garrus’ vendetta, his mission. Saren had promised to help him and he would. This… rawness was simply painful to watch. An expected side-effect of two years as a vigilante.

A part of him could understand the simplicity of his suggestion. As a Spectre, he’d been the one doing the beating on numerous occasions. Violence was typically the simplest way to get information quickly. Despite it being unreliable at times, torture had its uses. It didn’t make Garrus a bad turian. In fact, it proved he was a good one. Willing to do what it took for the cause and willing to put the lives of his squad ahead of his own comfort.

As the skycar began to descend, they both replaced their helmets. “By your lead.”

Garus was first out of the car, landing gracefully as he jumped down the last metre to the ground. Saren followed him, pistol drawn and his free hand already alight with biotic energy. A group of Blue Suns mercenaries stood in a gaggle along with a single human near the entryway to the warehouse. By Garrus’ knowing growl, it was Harkin.

“Harkin!” Garrus shouted, much to the man’s surprise.

The human spun on his guards, petrified as he yelled at them. “What are you waiting for? Shoot them!”

The mercs took one look at the pair of heavily armoured turians and then back at one another. A brief conversation without words going on in their ranks which very quickly amounted to: “Fuck this.” They ran and so did Harkin.

Together, Garrus and Saren pushed through the warehouse without issue, working fluidly with one another. Horizon had begun preparing them to work together and this time, they were better. Mercenaries who didn’t run at the sight of them were quickly demolished and the mechs they left behind crumbled soon after. Cornering Harkin at the opposing end of the facility was no trouble at all for the pair of highly trained and dangerous turians.

Entering the control room where Fade was hiding from both sides at once, he was finished before he could try to escape. Garrus ensured that when he pistol-whipped the man clean across the face. Blood flew from Harkin’s mouth and he crumbled to the floor.

“Too slow,” Garrus snarled as he reached down and pulled the human up off the ground only to shove him into the nearest wall. A loud thump echoed inside the control room as his head impacted the wall, dazing him further. “If you want to live, you’ll tell me where I can find someone.”

The man choked and grabbed at Garrus’ arm, his useless soft nails scraping against the plating. Garrus wouldn’t let go for anything, Saren was sure of that. The biotic remained a few paces back and he let the sniper work, watching him with a keen eye.

“Who are you?” Harkin gasped through the chokehold as Garrus’ grip tightened ever so slightly around his throat. The human’s words were slurred, likely a side effect of being struck upside the head. He’d likely have a concussion by the time this was over if he didn’t already.

“It doesn’t matter,” Garrus bit out and he kneed him in the stomach before letting him fall to the ground again. The human curled in on himself, trying to cover his more vulnerable parts. Saren could see now that his partner had been quite serious earlier. Garrus was proving -yet again- that he was Spectre material. He followed through with his threats. While part of Saren was approving of his methods and Saren himself used the same tactics when necessary, the remaining half didn’t like this level of brutality coming from Garrus’ hands.

“You helped a friend of mine disappear. I need to find him. A turian, name’s Sidonis. Came from Om-”

“I know who he is and I’m not telling you squat, Garrus!” 

If the sniper was surprised at the man recognizing him by association, he didn’t show it. Instead, he kicked him onto his back and placed a heavy boot at the human’s throat. It was a power move to be sure, more flourish than Saren might’ve used himself but it was effective with the addition of a menacing growl. “You’ll tell me,” Garrus snarled. “Now.”

“I don’t give out client information,” Harkin managed to squeak out. “It’s bad for business!”

Saren watched on as Garrus’ boot descended a little harder against his throat. “Know what else is bad for business? A broken neck.”

Harkin’s eyes went wide and he attempted to remove Garrus’ boot. It didn’t work. As the man’s face began to purple, Saren considered stepping in. He did not particularly want to interrupt and have Garrus’ ire turned on him… but if Harkin blacked out, this would take longer. Every extension provided a higher opportunity for failure and C-Sec had to be sending officers to their location by now. Their enemies’ rifles hadn’t been silenced.

Thankfully, Harkin gave up before he made his decision. “Al-all right! Get off me!” Garrus let up, pulling his pistol out instead and visibly turning off the safety, encouraging the man to speak and to do it quickly. “Terminus really changed you, huh, Garrus?”

The sniper’s crest flicked in a negative motion, refuting the words. Yet, Saren knew he spoke the truth. Garrus had changed and Saren was still trying to figure out if it was for the better or not as the sniper gave him a verbal answer. “No, but Sidonis opened my eyes. Now, arrange a meeting.”

The human scrambled to his feet and moved to the single terminal in the control room. His hands flew across the keyboard and he set up a comm link. Saren moved in closer to Garrus, feeling his subvocal hum in the air and the rage that poured off his Spirit.

The part of Saren that wasn’t intrigued was beginning to regret agreeing to this.

Viciousness wasn’t something he would have associated with his partner in their brief time together before his incarceration. Nor was it a trait he’d associate with his Hierarchy Citizenship file or C-Sec records. The younger turian was ruthless when required, and he would kill as ordered to do so and without remorse. But this was different. Something in him had snapped.

Saren had come to the conclusion that he didn’t like it.

“It’s all good. He wants to meet you in front of Orbital Lounge, middle of the day.” Harkin backed away from the console and headed straight for the door. “So if our business is done? I'll be going.”

“I don’t think so,” Garrus growled. Saren inclined his head, questioning him silently but he didn’t interfere. As much as he disliked the malicious tone, this was Garrus’ mission. He would wait.

Generously, Harkin voiced Saren’s question for him. “So what? You just gonna kill me? That’s not your style, Garrus.”

“Kill you?” he laughed, the sound raw and unwieldy. He aimed the pistol at the man’s chest without hesitation, his hand steady over the gun. “No, but I don’t mind slowing you down a little.”

Saren’s brow-plate rose under his helmet and he watched Garrus’ arm shift downward at the last moment to shoot the unarmed human in the knee, crippling him.  _ Not his style indeed. _

“Bastard!” Harkin screeched as he fell back down to the ground, grabbing at the injury and wailing like a fledgling who’d cracked a plate for the first time. “What did I ever do to you?”

Garrus ignored him and headed for the door on his own. Saren took the time to step in closer to the human and he crouched down to his level. Harkin flinched away, leaving a trail of crimson blood behind as he slid a half metre across the floor only to be stopped by the unforgiving wall. His eyes were wide and his mouth pulled into a terrified ‘o’ shape.

Saren felt no sense of remorse for the human. While he hated watching Garrus be the one to do it… shooting him in the leg was better than the disgraced C-Sec officer deserved.

Had it been his talons around the pistol, Saren would have killed him.

“Sidonis better be there, Harkin,” Garrus called from the door. 

“Or I'll be back to finish the job,” Saren finished for his partner as he leaned into the human’s space, ensuring the human could see his narrowed eyes through the dark tint of his visor. His voice warned in a low, rumbling voice: “I won’t be so generous.”

The human visibly swallowed and Saren moved off to follow Garrus. They didn’t have much time before they needed to meet Sidonis. Just enough to make a plan….

+-+-+-+

As Garrus sat in the passenger’s seat of the skycar, he could feel the rage building behind his keel. The pressure felt real around his heart and it weighed him down, making his limbs heavy and his gaze clouded. He was at war with himself. Sidonis was the first recruit on his team.

“-rus.” 

Sidonis had betrayed them all. Everyone else was dead.

“Garrus.”

He jerked out of his own head and turned to see Saren staring at his hand. He looked down and realized he’d scratched three long furrows into the door’s fabric. Withdrawing his talons, he placed his palm down on his knee instead. Garrus hadn’t even heard Saren and the turian was sitting right beside him. He shook his head to clear the fog and gave him his attention.

Saren was watching him still, expectantly.

Garrus sighed, letting the breath fully out of his lungs to stall. Instead of saying what he was truly feeling, he came up with: “Harkin’s a bloody menace. I shouldn’t have just let him go…. He deserved to be punished.”

“He isn’t worth your attention,” Saren said. He raised his wrist, showing him a message he had just sent on his omnitool. The orange, haptic screen flicked out after Saren gave him time to read the email and his arm returned to his side. “Leave the remains for the varren- C-Sec can have him.”

Nodding, Garrus closed his eyes and attempted to get a hold of himself. Though he could still feel the other turian’s eyes on him it wasn’t judgment. Garrus was glad for that and thankful for his decision to keep Shepard in the dark. In the Commander’s presence, he would have had to keep his anger in check, stifle it while it clawed away at him from the inside. He didn’t need that. Not now.

Saren Arterius was the most ruthless Spectre in Council history. He understood Garrus in a way no one else could.

_ So why am I wavering? _

He felt Saren’s warm palm come down on the back of his neck. When he’d removed his glove, Garrus didn’t know. A comforting sound fell into the air between them, too, before Saren asked: “Is this what you want?”

“There’s no turning back now,” Garrus told him without opening his eyes. He accepted the comfort and raised his own hand to cover Saren’s so he’d keep it there. “I’ll never have another shot at this. We’re on a suicide mission.”

Saren hummed an understanding tone back. “That is true.”

“Who’s going to bring Sidonis to justice if I don’t?” He turned to look at Saren, the war raging in his head rolling off him like the embers would off of a burning structure. “Nobody else knows what he’s done. Nobody else cares. I don’t see any other options.”

“It is your decision, Garrus.” Saren’s mandibles shifted in uncertainty, as though he was trying to decide if his next sentence was worth uttering. After a moment he settled for: “If I were in your position, I would end him now. From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t deserve to live.”

Garrus nodded, feeling somewhat validated at his words. Despite that… he could hear Shepard’s voice in his head, too:  _ Killing Sidonis won’t bring your squad back. _

He knew it wouldn’t. Regardless, he tried to justify himself out loud as Saren’s hand fell away. Before it even came to rest in the biotic’s lap, he missed the proximity.

“It’ll be quick and painless. Unlike everyone he betrayed… I’ll spare him the agony of a slow death. It’s more than he deserves but as long as he’s dead, I'll be satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” Saren questioned.

“That isn’t the right word.” Despite Saren’s placid expression and willingness to follow him thus far, Garrus felt compelled to defend himself. “I'm not turning back now.”

The elder male’s head tilted to the side, his gaze critical and unyielding, if not a little confused. “I did not ask you to.”

Garrus drew in another shaky breath and tried to settle his nerves. He was getting ahead of himself, Saren had probably done this before… he had done this before.  _ Nihlus. _

Swallowing down the knot that had built in his throat at  _ that _ realization, Garrus refocused by clenching and unclenching his jaw a handful of times. Once his mandible started to ache, he stopped and began to explain his plan. “I’ll set up above the promenade. I just need you to approach him. Let me look him in the eye while I pull the trigger. I'll live with the consequences. All I'm asking is that you help me get his attention.”

“At range?” Saren asked.

“I….” he wavered again.

“This…” he began before stopping to reword the phrase before he continued. “This appears to be personal, Garrus. You say you want to look him in the eyes, yet he will not see yours.”

The sniper paused to consider the statement. Sidonis would run if he saw him and sniping was his forte. A clean assassination had been his plan, no mess and very little likelihood of getting caught. But Saren was right: Sidonis wouldn’t know what hit him. 

“What would you suggest?”

“Set up as you’d planned,” Saren began in a cool, calculated tone. His voice had changed, becoming more business-like, almost reminiscent of one of his old instructors explaining a concept during field training. “I will approach him in plain clothes and lure him to a more private location. If he runs, shoot him. I will ensure you do not miss.”

Garrus nodded. “I trust you.”

“Good.”

Saren adjusted the cab’s course and silence fell over them. With nothing more to say, Garrus’ attention wandered out the window. Buildings skimmed by below them and other skycars weaved around theirs, coming and going in the Citadel’s automated traffic pattern. His mind drifted back to his brief earlier thought: Saren had killed Nihlus. He’d been under  _ Sovereign’s _ control at the time, of course, but that did not change that it was his hand. Just like their relationship, he’d remember that moment too.

How he dealt with that kind of loss... Garrus didn’t know. Nihlus had been his friend by all accounts, just as Sidonis had been his. He and Saren had barely gotten on speaking terms, let alone had time to delve into their pasts. And that was his own fault, Garrus knew that, but it didn’t settle his mind in the slightest.

When the cab descended into a parking space and came to a stop, Garrus was pulled from his musings. His gaze flicked upward to watch Saren leave without saying a word. Glancing around the lot, he picked out a few signs denoting their location. They weren’t at the drop location, so Garrus assumed the biotic was going to fetch the disguise he’d mentioned. The other turian’s new armour was too recognizable for this type of operation.

He pulled up his omnitool and prepared the programs he’d need to loop the Citadel cameras. There could be no trace of them or of his mark. Sidonis was an unregistered citizen. If they dropped his body into an incinerator there would be no trace left. Unbidden, his mind supplied a reminder of the smell bodies made when they burned. He knew it too well. 

_ That’s probably not a good thing, _ Garrus huffed to himself.

Shortly, Saren returned with a bag under his arm. He got into the back of the cab and began removing his armour. Garrus looked to him for direction.

“Set the destination,” he ordered.

Garrus complied. His talons swept across the haptic keyboard and they were once again on their way. The only sound was the scrape of metal and ceramic, followed by the flutter of fabric as Saren changed. Curiosity got the better of him and through the rearview mirror, he watched the biotic. Not a single scar remained on his plates. Outside of the prosthetic arm, he was whole. He was leaner than before, still thicker through the waist than himself but not as bulky as he had been.

Before Saren could catch him, Garrus looked away. He could feel warmth rushing to his throat and was sure it had tinged blue. He’d spent too long around aliens, their sense of modesty rubbed off on him. Without context, nudity shouldn’t affect him. There was little time to reflect as the skycar descended a second time.

They had arrived.

+-+-+-+

Saren was first out of the cab.

Without waiting for Garrus, he headed for the meet-up point. He assumed that the other turian would sight for him. The ward surrounding the Orbital Lounge was bright with neon lights and moderately busy with pedestrians milling about. It was a popular location that would only become busier as the day went on.

A slight amount of static proceeded Garrus’ voice through the com unit.

_ “Cameras are looped. We have ten minutes.” _

Orienting himself with the flow of traffic, Saren took his time acclimating to the ward around him. It had been a long time since he last needed to work undercover. Not since the early days of his association with  _ Sovereign. _ It was, surprisingly enough, like putting on a worn pair of gloves. He fell into the persona of a Silonian visitor to the Citadel waiting for an acquaintance. The slight smile he wore on his face warred with his calculating gaze but otherwise, he fit in perfectly. 

_ “I have him,” _ Garrus said.  _ “Blue suit, red and yellow embroidering, broad carapace.” _

Saren casually leaned against a railing, overlooking the level below him. He scanned the area and spotted the male easily. The turian stood out. First of all, he was alone and second, he looked nervous. It was a dead giveaway. Pushing himself up, Saren melded into the flow of traffic to approach Sidonis from behind. It was easier to disappear in a group while matching their unhurried gait.

_ “Spirits, he didn’t even change his colony markings,” _ the sniper scoffed before adding a description:  _ “Purple striping on his mandibles.” _

Saren went unnoticed until he stepped up directly beside the target. Sidonis flinched away, stiffening like a board at the proximity of the unknown turian. Sidonis was about his height, leaner in stature with wider shoulders as Garrus described. The biotic kept his own expression passive despite the frightened one that overcame the other turian.

“I’m here to take you to a secure location, Sidonis.” It wasn’t quite a lie.

“Don’t ever say that name aloud!” he hissed back.

Tilting his head to the side, feigning innocence, Saren felt no need to reply. He only turned and started walking away. When Sidonis didn’t immediately begin to follow, he stopped. “Would you rather I allow Garrus to kill you where you stand?”

Saren didn’t need to watch the other turian to know the dread he expressed. It was clear in his second voice, so much so that it garnered the attention of a few turians around them. Even over Garrus’ growled:  _ “What are you doing?” _ through his aural implant, he knew Sidonis was guilty of everything Garrus accused him of. He would ensure the sniper had his chance.

“Garrus? Is this some kind of joke?” Sidonis half-laughed. When Saren didn’t join him, his voice went grave again and he backpedalled. “You’re not kidding, are you? Screw this…. I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus I had my own problems.”

Before the traitor could leave, Saren swept in front of him. Effectively blocking Garrus’ sight and the other turian from leaving. He ignored the sniper’s sharp voice, telling him to move. As much as he approved of killing Sidonis, he wouldn’t allow Garrus to do it like this. He deserved better than to be unsatisfied with his decision. If he was going to kill him, it would be while he could watch the light leave his eyes.

“I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head,” Saren told him. “Move and you’re dead.”

“Fuck… look-”

“Save it.”

This time, Sidonis followed him without trying to break away. Saren scoffed internally at his quick change of heart. He was a coward even now, willing to obey any order to prolong his life by mere minutes. The small commotion they made was quickly forgotten and the ward returned to its bustling state. They were but a leaf in the breeze, and there was no reason to suspect anything beyond a small disagreement. Not a soul here would miss one lone turian.

Saren’s path took them onto a deserted street. Despite Garrus’ mention of the cameras being taken out, the route he led them on kept their faces clear of their line of sight. A nearly dark alley would become Sidonis’ deathbed. The incinerator in the next building over, his grave.

This would be the second time he’d used this particular location. The first time was with Avitus, during his training. It was coming on thirteen years ago, now that he thought about it. He paused,  _ fifteen  _ years if he counted the time he spent in cryo. The Citadel changed at the speed of the asari: nothing was different here. The keepers kept even the alleyways in the more popular wards spotless. There was nothing for Sidonis to hide behind. Only smooth, dull metal walls surrounded them. He had the other turian precede him down to the dead end.

A silenced pistol shot took out the overhead light. Garrus had arrived.

Darkness descended upon them, light from the ward behind them streamed in. Sidonis swivelled around so fast he nearly lost his footing and he stumbled back into the wall that trapped him. Garrus’ menacing growl met them, a thunder that made Saren feel warm under his plates.

“Garrus…,” Sidonis whimpered.

“Lantar,” Garrus replied, appearing at Saren’s side.

Without the aid of his cybernetic eyes, it took a moment for Saren to acclimate to the darkness. He supposed that was part of Garrus’ reasoning for taking out the light in the first place. Sidonis would be even more disoriented.

Looking at Garrus side-long, he was the vision of death his moniker painted him as. The blue glow of his visor gave them light to see by, casting shadows over his scarred face and ensuring his teeth flashed when he spoke. Menace wasn’t a strong enough word for the Spirit he embodied.

“I didn’t want to do it,” the traitor defended himself. “I didn’t have a choice!”

Snarling, Garrus aimed his weapon at the turian. “Everyone has a choice!”

“They got to me…. Said they’d kill me if I didn’t help them. What was I supposed to do?”

Garrus stepped in closer and closer until the pistol was shoved up under Sidonis’ jaw, forcing his head back and exposing his throat. He whimpered, pinned against the wall by Garrus’ larger form. The sniper took one of the male’s hands... moving it toward the pistol but stopping part way. Instead, Garrus held it to the wall. It was almost as if he’d been planning to make Sidonis shoot himself in the head… have it be his own hand that pulled the trigger.

Saren had to shake the memory of the last time he saw Garrus standing like this. The arrangement reminded him too much of the moment Garrus broke  _ Sovereign’s _ control over him. The second the pistol went off and he nearly killed him. The reason for the first scar on his faceplates.

“You were supposed to die,” Garrus bit out, the word sounding choked. His hand pulled the pistol away from Sidonis’ jaw to aim it at the wall. It still rested on his chest between them but now even if it fired, neither would be injured.

Sidonis cowered, head ducking in on himself like a crustacean retreating into its shell. He didn’t try to escape, not anymore. “I know what I did. They died because of me. I have to live with that. I wake up every night sick and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me. Accusing me. I'm already a dead man. I don’t sleep. Food has no taste. Some days I just want it to be over.”

Garrus snarled again, this time though it accompanied him throwing the other turian to the ground between them. Sidonis hit the floor with a resounding crack, plate impacting the metal with a bruising force. “Shut up!”

“I can’t go back,” Sidonis whispered, his voice dropping some of the fear to allow an apology to take its place. Remorse thrummed from his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Garrus’ hand went to his crest, the gun coming with it. He was wavering. Saren could see it in his body language and hear it in his voice. When he took aim again, the pistol trembled. “My… no.  _ Our  _ team deserved better!”

He was getting too loud. Saren glanced back at the mouth of the alley. This was taking too long. However much he wanted to allow Garrus the opportunity to do this himself, they were running out of time. He had to step in.

“There’s nothing left, Garrus,” he said. “End it.”

Sidonis’ fear-widened eyes darted to him before going back to Garrus. They locked onto the scarred side of his face. His night vision must have become clear. “It… it’s the least I deserve for what I did to you… to them.”

“He has his life,” Garrus said.

Instead of shooting, his arm dropped to his side and Garrus turned away. A wave of anger passed over Saren. How could he back down now? The traitor had killed his squad and run away from responsibility.

Sidonis had maimed the turian he-

Saren grabbed Garrus’ arm, hard enough to make the armour plating creak beneath his grip. His biotics sparked, electrifying the air between them with that familiar, cloying eezo smell. “Garrus, you said it yourself: you won’t have another chance.”

The sniper’s eyes found his and Saren felt the need to let go of his arm as he met them. They burned with an intensity that shot through the back of Saren’s skull, causing his own mandibles to fall loose at the impact.  His limbs grew heavy as though lead filled them and time seemed to stand still as the agony in Garrus’ voice made him quiver.

“You were in my sights once, too.”

Through the numbness that had set in, Saren felt Garrus’ shoulder bump into his as he walked away. It was the brief touch that broke him out of his stupor.  _ It was true. _ By the time Garrus’ footsteps faded to nothing, Saren’s mouth felt dry and his throat brittle. Sidonis was still on the ground. He’d watched Garrus’ back as he left and remained unable to move. The surprise was evident on his plates, though there was no relief. Even less so when Saren turned on him.

Just as he’d done with Harkin, Saren crossed the short distance between them and he descended to the other turian’s level. Sidonis did not try to escape him as the human had. He merely continued to stare at the mouth of the alley, dumbfounded.

“He’s giving you a second chance, Sidonis. Don’t waste it.”

“I’ll…” Sidonis stumbled over the word. “I’ll make it up to him, somehow….”

Saren shook his head and stood to leave. Before he was out of hearing range he stopped.  Turning back to see Sidonis still too afraid to move, he said: “You can’t.”

And then he, too, left Sidonis behind.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  “It wasn’t Sidonis’ face I saw behind my gun,” Garrus swallowed, his shoulders dropped and the end of his sentence was little more than a whisper. “It was yours.”
> 
> Saren felt himself go rigid at the insult.
> 
> “That’s how you see me?” he snarled. “A traitor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Underneath - Blacktop Mojo**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XykyL7PKe7I)
> 
> NSFW in this chapter. To skip, stop reading at -They met in the middle.- and resume at -In the aftermath-.

**Faults and Fortitude - 7**

\- - -

The sound of a turian growling was uncommon on the Citadel.

Beyond an occasional rumble of disagreement or frustration, most of his species tended to keep their subvocals to themselves in polite company. That, however, was not an option for Saren at the moment. His rumbling second voice boomed aloud like thunder in an Invictus hailstorm. Pedestrians fled from his path and no one dared to get in his way.

When Saren had returned to the skycar to fetch his armour, he’d been expecting to find Garrus sitting in the passenger’s seat, stewing or grieving or… _something._ Instead, he’d come back to an empty vehicle. Garrus was gone without a trace and not answering his comms.

For the tenth time in the past hour, Saren checked his omnitool. It hadn’t gone off to indicate that he had a message, yet he checked regardless. Just in case something slipped by without his notice. Anger made him seethe, his mandibles hurt after being tucked into his jaw for hours on end and thus far, there was no end in sight.

A desperate part of him wanted to call on Shepard or have the AI just connect him. That thought made him clamp his jaw shut even tighter. So much so that he bled his gums. The background pain kept him sharp.

The idea was idiotic. He shouldn’t need help tracking a single turian across the Citadel, even one so skilled as Garrus had, apparently, become. He was Saren Arterius, the most feared Spectre to ever haunt Citadel space. He was the Council’s top agent for _years._ And now, he was reduced to this… disaster.

Finding himself alone in one of the keeper tunnels that led toward Palaven Ward, Saren finally took a moment to stop. In solitude, he let himself lean back against the wall and drop the bag containing his armour. His back made a dull thump against the metal, the armour scraped together as it settled. He resisted the urge to slide down to the floor but only just.

Instead, Saren’s talons -real and artificial- scraped through the blades of his fringe.

Garrus had dragged him across the Citadel to chase down the turian who betrayed him, only to hold a gun to his head and then let him walk. Saren spent the entire day with paint on his plates and contacts in his eyes for _nothing._ And now, Garrus was gone. _Again._

Swallowing down the anger in his gizzard, Saren brought his arm up to type a message. He had to give in, he needed assistance. Garrus had gotten too much of a head start and the cameras near the mission area had been looped before they even began this farce. Without leads and without his Spectre authority, he had very few options. Every single hack took minutes to ensure he didn’t trip alarms and Garrus could be anywhere on the station by now. The treacherous parts of his mind supplied that he could even be off the Citadel. It wouldn’t have been difficult.

Snarling at his own self-pity, he slammed a talon against the open key on his tool. The bright orange haptic screen opened and, almost in a mockery of his lack of control, there was a message waiting for him. It had just come in and he’d missed the ping because of his own raging subvocals.

The message was from Shepard.

//

_[From: BioticGod - Location: Serpent Nebula / Widow / Citadel / Zakera Ward]_

_[To: Ghost702 - Location: Serpent Nebula / Widow / Citadel / Presidium]_

_[Subject: GV]_

_Saren,_

_Garrus sent me a message, said you were separated. It was weird but he said he doesn’t have your contact info. I’ve been dealing with something for Thane, didn’t see it until now._

_Time is short on another matter, too. I’m taking the Normandy. We’ll be back to pick you both up in the morning. I’ll message when we’re docked._

_Shepard_

_[End Message Text] - [Attachment]_

//

Before Saren could even fathom a response to Shepard, he tore into the attachment. His anger was abandoned for the moment at the relief that Garrus was fine. He’d tried to contact him and been unable. It had simply been a miscommunication. The relief he felt was palpable, easing the ache in his chest that he hadn’t known was there.

//

_[From: DarkKnight - Location: Unknown/Unknown/Unknown]_

_[Subject: no subject]_

_Meet me where it began._

_G._

_[End Message Text]_

//

Saren reread the message about six times before he finally closed out his omnitool. ‘Where it all began’ could mean one of two places on the Citadel: C-Sec or his apartment. He sincerely doubted it was the former, which could only mean that he was already across the station from where they’d begun and he was waiting in the apartment. The one Saren had abandoned after their first night together, despite still paying for it and its upkeep through one of his many shell corporations.

The anger returned in full-force now that he allowed it to.

Booming out once again from deep in his chest, his growl filled the keeper tunnel. It echoed off the metal walls and continued down and outward into the ward. It was careless but Saren didn’t care at the moment. He needed an outlet and that was all he had for the moment.

Saren grabbed his bag of armour off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. Heading straight for the rapid transit hub, he forced himself to silence. There would be time for his rage to come out, he only had to wait until he had his target in his sights.

He and Garrus needed to have a chat.

+-+-+-+

Seeing the familiar corridors of one’s old apartment building might have been nostalgic for some after such a long time away from home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a sentiment that Saren Arterius could agree with. First off, this was just a safe house and second, he was too angry to actually take the time to pay attention.

He hardly noticed the similarities from the last few times he’d been there, nor the differences. It didn’t matter that the paint colour had been updated to a more cheery blue than the original drab grey, nor that the plants had been swapped out for a harvest season bloom versus the growing season buds he remembered.

The scent was the same, a somewhat spicy musk that came of turians living in close proximity, and the lighting was dimmed as he preferred it. Had Saren been in a better frame of mind, he might have taken the time to appreciate coming back to somewhere familiar. Instead, he paced the elevator box and seethed the entire ride upward.

On the fifteenth floor, Saren stepped out of the lift and headed down the hallway to his apartment. When he arrived, the door was locked. A brief swipe of his talons across the locking mechanism brought up the control panel and a passcode had the door opening for him.

When Saren entered, Garrus was standing in the galley kitchen, leaning against the far counter with his visor in his hands. He was focused intently on the small piece of tech, his thumb rubbing along the support bar. After a moment, his bright blue eyes flicked up and he pushed off the counter to stand. A small click echoed in the silence as he placed the visor down on the countertop.

The island stood between them. Two empty glasses remained there from years ago, along with a half-finished bottle of turian brandy. A brief glance around showed them to be alone and his apartment in similar condition to how he’d left it, albeit a little dustier. The small main room held one couch and chair arranged around a kava table. The walls were sparsely decorated, a bookshelf held a few meaningless books and trinkets.

The Council hadn’t known about this one, as it was so rarely used. Saren assumed his actual home here on the Citadel and his _maldis_ back on Palaven would have been ransacked. This was a safe-house, nothing more.

“Hello,” Garrus greeted, his voice devoid of emotion.

The single word was enough to make the biotic burst. It had only been seconds since the door closed behind him, his bag clattered to the floor and he was lunging at the other turian. With the barrier between them, Garrus had more than enough time to prepare himself and he blocked Saren’s first strike with his armoured forearm.

Saren snarled, going for a second swipe with his prosthetic talons. This time he attacked the weaker point of Garrus’ armour at his waist but again, he was foiled. A third attempt and Saren felt his knuckles go bloody beneath his glove as it once again impacted unforgiving armour plate instead of the softer joint material. The scent of blood did nothing to quell the rage burning inside of him.

Not for the first time, Saren was blind. Only this time… it wasn’t the Council’s fault, nor was it _Sovereign’s_. It was his own. Something had snapped.

Garrus remained on the defensive, blocking strike after strike. The sniper would have felt none of the burn, for his armour protected him from the few furious punches that managed to get through his arms. Their fight took them into the open space between the kitchen and seating area. Only then did Garrus begin to change tactics, leaving defence behind in favour of offence.

Before Saren realized what was happening, he was ensnared.

Garrus shoved Saren against the wall beside the doorway, his face against the unforgiving surface. He could feel the weight of Garrus’ talons as they wrapped around his shoulder and spun him around. Saren impacted it with a dull thud, sparking another growl out of him. The heavier turian trapped him and used his weight to keep him there. Grabbing for one hand at a time, Garrus soon immobilized Saren. He struggled but to no avail.

“Stop,” Garrus ordered. This time, emotion had returned to his voice. The tone was commanding and it demanded that Saren cease his futile attempts to escape.

Garrus’ head was pressed right up against Saren’s so that he couldn’t be injured if Saren chose to flail. Some part of the biotic knew the hold was a fairly standard policing maneuver and if he used his powers, he could break it. But the raging part of him refused to allow the logical parts of his brain to work. He refused to give in or ‘cheat’.

“Get off!” he growled instead, throwing a leg back and only managing to bruise his own spur against Garrus’ armoured calf.

“Not until you get a grip on yourself.”

Saren roared and fought and... failed to get anywhere.

It took a long time before Garrus began to loosen his hold. At first, it was only enough to reduce the stress in his shoulders. He assumed it was so that Garrus didn’t unintentionally hurt him. It was easy to dislocate a shoulder in this position. It seemed an age before Saren’s breathing could return to a more normal rate and his heart stopped racing. Only then did the sniper give him more breathing room.

Garrus turned him, keeping Saren pinned against the wall. This time, he trapped his hands with his own on either side of the biotic’s head. The hold was looser, less an officer’s way to keep a suspect pinned and more akin to how one would trap a lover. Garrus caught Saren’s eyes with his own.

“Talk to me,” he demanded.

Scoffing, Saren flicked his crest in a negative before averting his gaze. Right now, the last thing he wanted to do was meet his partner’s eyes. They always said too much.

Garrus sighed and Saren felt his hand tighten a little around his trapped wrist before letting off. A low, mournful rumble left Garrus’ chest, vibrating even through the armour and into his chest. “I couldn’t kill him, Saren.”

“I saw,” he bit out, allowing venom to seep into his words. He brought his head up to glare at the sniper, heat working its way from his voice to his eyes.

“It wasn’t Sidonis’ face I saw behind my gun,” Garrus swallowed, his shoulders dropped and the end of his sentence was little more than a whisper. “It was yours.”

Saren felt himself go rigid at the insult.

“That’s how you see me?” he snarled. “A traitor?”

The biotic put all of his weight into shoving Garrus off of himself. The sniper stumbled back a few paces, letting him go without a fight this time. As space grew between them, the ferocity of Saren’s voice grew to match it. He was beyond words for a moment, simply too enraged to form a coherent sentence. When he did, he demanded an answer. “Tell me!”

Garrus’ mouth opened but words too slow to fall into the air between them. As far as Saren could tell, Garrus had no defence. The other turian wasn’t even going to try. So he took matters into his own talons. He was done with waiting. If that’s what Garrus thought? Then he’d have to spell it out for him.

“In case you can’t recall, I was _indoctrinated_. I was a mere husk of myself, forced to do the bidding of sentient machines from beyond the void,” he pushed Garrus back another step, his hands slamming against the sniper’s chest plate hard enough to cause a sharp twinge of pain at his elbow. “It tore me apart and then the Council did it again. Everything _Sovereign_ forced into my body against my will was ripped back out. I was stripped down to the bare bone, left blind and in agony.”

“Sar-”

“No!” he shouted, stopping Garrus before he could interrupt with a swipe of his talons through the air. “I woke up to find two years of my life just... gone. The Council threw me away like scraps. After I gave _everything_ for them!

“Then, by some Spirits praised miracle, I find you. Only for you to give me nothing. For _weeks_ I’ve been taking care of you. You locked me out. The only reason I’m even alive is you. You made me feel turian. Like myself. Reminded me who I am and kept me sane through it all.”

His voice burned in his throat like acid was working its way down. Garrus remained silent.

“Now, you tell me that I’m the reason that coward, Sidonis, is still allowed to breathe? After all this time, you see me as a traitor? A spineless, weak-minded defector who’d leave you to be torn apart by varren? He gave you up to save his own _Spirits forsaken_ hide. He may as well have killed them all by his own hand.” Saren’s voice caught and he had to shake his head to get it flowing again. “If that’s what you think of me, then you should have let me pull the trigger on that platform. Or better yet, put me out of my misery when you had the chance.”

Saren only paused long enough to lunge again. This time, Garrus went down to the ground easily, giving Saren the advantage by remaining still and silent. The rest of his words tore out of his throat in an agonizing wave: “You’re the only thing I hav- _had…_ left.”

“Saren….”

He hadn’t realized his gaze had fallen to the floor until he felt Garrus’ hands against the sides of his head. Gently, the sniper pulled him in… just in time for three lingering words to fall between them like a brittle glass shattering against concrete. “You abandoned me,” Saren said.

Just as fast as Garrus flipped their position around, the anger fell out of Saren. There was nothing left. Every bit of pain that had welled up beneath his keel in all the weeks since he’d awoken, freezing cold and alone, had been confessed. All that was left now was for Garrus to tell him he was right… they were fini-

His thought process was interrupted by Garrus’ crest thunking down against his own.

Blinking a handful of times, Saren tried to figure out what was going on. It was like his brain was malfunctioning. Garrus was… comforting him? Garrus’ warm hands were pressed to the sides of his face, his thumbs caressing the long lines of his horns. When he’d removed his gloves… Saren couldn’t remember. His voice was vibrating between them, open and honest.

“Wha-”

“Hush,” Garrus cut him off. The warm thrum emanating from his throat shut Saren up completely. It was soothing like a cool drink of water after a hike through the desert. “I’m here.”

“You weren’t…,” Saren whispered.

Any semblance of his normally stoic demeanour was gone. In its place was little more than the absolute wreck of a turian who’d been beaten down for years and come out alive by the edges of his talons. All of the times he’d said ‘later’ over the past weeks and months and years before returned all at once. This wasn’t… this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Saren Arterius was not weak.

Then why was he crumbling? Like a meteor that would cause an ice age and the end of an era on some Spirits forsaken world, the weight of everything he’d been forced to endure fell from the atmosphere to crush him, all at once. Saren felt as though he could hardly breathe. This… this wasn’t him. He didn’t break. Ever. Not after he’d killed his own brother. Not while slogging through Spectre training. Not during his years rising through the ranks and watching his fellow Spectres succumb to some mission or another. Not even when he’d killed Nihlus in cold blood.

Saren Arterius did not break.

Then why did he want to? In the arms of some failed C-Sec cop, a scarred vigilante that ignored his existence and thought him a traitor. The turian who believed him no better than a _coward._ The only reason he was alive to feel this pain.

He couldn’t stand it any longer, he needed out. Saren tried to shove Garrus off, his hands knocking the other turian’s away as he pushed hard against his shoulders. But Garrus was too strong, his position too secure. With his armour, it didn’t matter that Saren kicked at his thighs and fought to remove the younger turian from his place above him. Garrus merely had to impose his armoured weight and Saren was trapped.

Without physical recourse, Saren growled: “Say it!” The anger returned in full force to cover the… the shame he felt. Anything to plaster over the cracks Saren knew had appeared all around him. “Tell me you don’t care!”

The last thing Saren expected to hear was a soft chuckle. He stopped thrashing.

“Is that what you think, Saren? That I don’t care?” Garrus asked him, his gaze softened and mandibles grew lax. “That I believe you and Sidonis are the same?”

Saren’s jaw clamped shut and he met Garrus’ eyes, daring him to look away.

“You’re wrong.”

As suddenly as the words settled over him, Garrus’ mouth descended on his throat. His warm, damp breath caressed Saren’s hide and caused him to shiver for how long it’d been since he felt something so soft. Garrus’ voice dropped an octave, a purr rolling through him.

“You’re so wrong, Saren,” Garrus murmured against his neck. His mandible flicked outward, brushing against Saren’s own. His words were but a whisper as he said: “I never loved Sidonis.”

The biotic felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, misfiring in his panic. He couldn’t move. This… this was….

Saren Arterius was not equipped for this.

“Twice now, I’ve seen the ghost of a turian who had once been great,” Garrus told him as he continued to focus his attention on the long-neglected expanse of Saren’s throat. “A turian who could be better, if only he were given the chance.” His voice grew a little quieter and the edge of a keen passed through his subvocals before it disappeared. “A piece of my squad will live.”

“But he killed them.”

“I didn’t protect him,” Garrus replied, pulling away just enough to look Saren in the eyes again. He remained close enough for their breath to be shared between them. “Just like I didn’t protect you.”

Saren felt his gizzard drop like a lead weight. It wasn’t simply mourning that kept Garrus away. It was guilt. “Garrus-”

Shaking his head, Garrus allowed his mandibles to tilt into a small, forgiving smile. “I couldn’t protect Shepard from the Collectors or you from the Council. Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver - I couldn’t save a single one of them, either.” He paused, seeming to find the strength to finish when Saren’s hand closed around his mandible. “I couldn’t kill him, Saren. I had to save one.”

It took very little effort for Saren to pull Garrus back down to touch crests again. All of what had just happened… it was too much. From the anguish he’d felt when the only person he had left to care about was comparing him to a traitor, to the elation of Garrus saying the words that he himself couldn’t voice. Saren’s pulse was racing and his mouth felt dry.

But when he felt the pressure returned to his crest, the weight of the past hours drifted away like leaves in a stream. Gently floating away and leaving behind nothing but cool water. Relief washed over him.

Saren wasn’t sure which of them started it the second time but his eyes fluttered shut as he felt Garrus resume his teasing touch along the length of his neck. Both pairs of hands began to work away at one another’s and their own coverings. Armour clattered to the ground and cloth ripped beneath questing talons. Neither of them appeared to be in a patient mood and in as little time as possible they separated to remove Garrus’ chest plate.

The warm, damp rasp of Garrus’ tongue along his neck caused Saren to inhale sharply and he tilted his head away to allow him better access. His nose was full of Garrus’ scent and all he could hear was his rumbling voice, his eyes fluttering shut.

For the first time in his life, Saren let out a mewl of approval. An involuntary moan at Garrus’ careful attention. He froze. That… that was new. Had that even been his own voice? He’d never….

“Ahh!” Saren cried out, arching his back up off the floor when Garrus bit down gently with the edges of his mouth plates. The tiny prick of pain was quickly soothed away with another lave of his warm tongue. Saren could feel his heart rate begin to spike and his talons grabbed for the younger male’s shoulders as he did it again.

After a third nip, Garrus pulled away enough for Saren to see the wide grin that had bloomed across his features. The cheeky bastard had done it intentionally. Garrus’ eyes left his own to feast on the bare expanse of his throat, hungry for more.

Before he could even begin to argue, Garrus was on him once again. He started at the front of his mandible and worked his way all the way to the end connective tissue at its base, his long prehensile tongue wrapping around the appendage as his hands snaked across Saren’s bare chest. Garrus’ rumbling voice was primal and possessive.

He wanted to be in control and Saren found himself oddly eager to let him.

Underneath the scarred, lean body of his lover, he was able to let go. For the first time in his life, he succumbed to another for the simple pleasure of it. Saren didn’t feel a need to force him off and gain the upper hand. This wasn’t like the first time they’d rolled around on this floor. He was no longer under _Sovereign’s_ control or superior to Garrus in any way. Now, the cracks could be allowed to spiral out and the dam could be allowed to collapse.

Saren Arterius was home.

+-+-+-+

Garrus smirked with what Jack or Shepard would have called a ‘shit-eating grin’. While he had no idea _why_ it was called that, he just knew that it was fitting of the smug expression on his plates. For once in his life, something was going _right._

Sliding his tongue along the curve of Saren’s bared throat, he dropped his voice an octave and let the aroused rumble roll through his chest. It had been far too long since he’d had any relief at all… let alone with Saren writhing beneath him.

It felt… empowering.

Saren, this powerful Spectre and biotic, lying beneath him. Taking what he had to give and moaning for more. The sound wasn’t even primal or demanding… Saren just wanted Garrus to take the reins. The sniper wanted to give him everything he desired and more. Wanted to help him let go again as they had before. But this time, there was no voice whispering to his lover. Saren could be himself in all ways. Garrus hadn’t known he craved it until now.

His next nip was a little rougher.

The moan it pulled from Saren’s chest made him grin with his mandibles spread wide enough to make the injured one hurt. The sound cut off after a moment, almost as though Saren had realized it was him making the noise.

Saren’s hands clawed at his shoulders and he pulled back to look at his partner’s face. What Garrus saw ensured that shit-eating grin would remain on his plates for a long time and return at memories of this moment. Saren’s mandibles had gone slack and his pupils were dilated with pleasure. It was a damn sexy look on his lover, despite the camouflage disguising his true colouring.

Blue eyes dropped to Saren’s pulse-point and before Saren could even attempt to argue, he was on him again. This time following the long line of his mandible, enjoying the hitch he caused in Saren’s breathing when his tongue passed over the connective tissue at the back.

For a few minutes, Garrus took his time drawing lines across Saren’s plates with the edges of his talons and thoroughly tasting him with his tongue. Teasing Saren was simply payback for the first time they’d fucked here. But Garrus wouldn’t leave him wanting. He wasn’t _that_ mean.

Eventually, Saren started to get impatient. His own talons became insistent, sliding down from Garrus’ shoulders to his waist. And that? Wouldn’t do.

“Don’t like it, Saren?” he whispered against his jugular as he licked along the entire length of it. His hands trapped the biotic’s down on either side of his head.

Saren didn’t answer him. Instead, he attempted to reverse their positions, a token effort. Had he really tried, Garrus would have been across the room again like when they’d been in the cargo bay. Saren was underneath him because he wanted to be.

So, Garrus refused. He used his superior position and weight to keep them in place. Pulling back, he watched Saren’s mandible flick in annoyance. But he could also see the smile underneath his stiff exterior.

“Tell me?”

“No.”

Garrus sighed. “No, what? No, you don’t like it or no, you won’t tell me?”

In a moment that Garrus never expected to ever happen… Saren rolled his eyes in conjunction with flicking his mandible in annoyance. The sniper’s own mandibles flared out even wider and he laughed… hard.

_Mistake._

“Oh shit, ouch,” Garrus had to hold his hand against his injured mandible, despite his continued snickering. “Don’t make me laugh, my face is barely holding together as it is.”

Without Garrus’ hold, Saren had enough mobility to slide his talons around the back of Garrus’ head and pull him back down. The sniper went willingly and he got the biotic’s overt hint: _Keep going._

Beneath him, Garrus could feel his partner’s hips begin to rise and Saren’s legs intertwined with his own spurs. His own breath was quickening as he kept on laving at the pale hide beneath him. He wished the paint was gone and the contacts too.

“Up,” Garrus growled, pulling away to stand. He reached down and brought Saren up with him. Trapping him against the island counter for a moment, Garrus nipped harshly at his throat. His voice kept the rumble as he told him what he wanted next. “I want this paint off. I want you.”

He could feel Saren’s throat move beneath his tongue as he swallowed another wanting moan. The biotic’s hands had barely managed to wrap around his waist before he was letting go and moving off to comply.

Garrus was finding he liked the compliance, despite Saren not verbally agreeing to anything and just simply going about doing it. He let Saren leave and spent a minute cleaning up his armour, setting it out on the table and removing the rest of it. He tossed the shredded remains of Saren’s clothes down beside his suit, unsure of where he’d want it.

A moment after Garrus entered the bedroom, Saren reappeared from the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulders. His plates were damp and back to their usual pale grey, almost white colouring. He felt himself relax a little more and he got caught up in the hungry icy gaze that awaited him.

They met in the middle.

Garrus’ back hit the mattress first and he pulled Saren down with him, reversing their positions fast enough to make himself dizzy. He wanted to please Saren. He wanted to be in control of this moment. He needed it and his vocals said as much.

The breathy gasp that left Saren’s throat at the feeling of hands on his waist gave Garrus the confidence to continue on. Slowly, he slid down the pale, hard line of Saren’s keel. His teeth nipped and tongue soothed the entire trail down to his parted seam. Saren’s hands found Garrus’ shoulder and the back of his fringe where he could encourage the other turian on. His legs parted and left Garrus’ head between his thighs. The sniper thought he felt a quiver of anticipation as he ghosted over the length of Saren’s seam but it was entirely possible that it had been his own hands shaking.

Before Garrus let himself consider it further, he brought his mouth to bear on the damp, warm expanse of hide in front of him. With almost no effort, Saren parted fully and his length emerged. It was so different from before when he’d been closed and needed copious amounts of attention to open. Garrus made his appreciation known with a rumble and he dropped lower to begin working his entrance open as well. He wanted _all_ of Saren and there was no resistance.

As he swept over the loose plating, Garrus felt another twitch of anticipation. This time, he was certain it was Saren shaking and not himself. The drawn-out moan as the biotic’s head tilted back, baring his throat, made Garrus drop from his own sheath too. He needed him. He needed to be inside of him and to feel the other turian’s talons on his shoulders and across his back.

“I want you,” Garrus said as he climbed up Saren’s body and encouraged his legs to wind around his own. Their spurs locked and Saren’s member pressed against his abdomen, burning hot. Both of the turians were short of breath and they shared the air between them with how close their faces were to one another’s.

He stopped above Saren. His length dripped and was hard enough to be painful. But he wanted to hear his lover ask for it. While one of Garrus’ hands kept him stable above Saren, his other wound around the back of his neck to massage the sensitive plating and hide around his amp port… something he’d never tried on Saren before but he'd found a partner on Omega who’d loved it.

Saren gasped, his hands tightened on him, the real one on Garrus’ waist and the other his shoulder. His eyes closed and he arched, pressing into both the sniper’s calloused fingers and his stomach. Saren wanted more too.

“Garrus….”

The single word, his name, was more than enough. The younger turian’s hips snapped forward and his length dipped inside his lover’s cloaca as though it belonged there. Hilting within a few short strokes, Garrus let out a groan and dropped his crest to Saren’s shoulder. His arms shook and he crooned as he started thrusting slow and hard.

Saren’s talons had tightened down almost painfully against Garrus’ plates but it didn’t matter. Finally, after _two Spirits damned years_ Garrus was starting to feel like himself again. The pain receded like the waves at low tide, no longer threatening to crush him beneath their weight.

By the time Garrus was finally able to open his eyes, the end was nearing. Saren’s hips rolled with his own, dragging out the thrusts and keeping their motion steady and even paced. Garrus pulled back to watch his expression, finding Saren’s gaze waiting for him. His lover was so intense that it made his throat go dry.

Garrus swallowed, his eyes stuck on Saren’s as he more breathed than said: “Fuck.”

He saw the smallest of grins appear on the biotic’s mandibles before he was pulled down so their crests would touch. He felt Saren come apart below him, the buildup and friction between them enough to pull him over the edge. Unable to hold out any longer, Garrus buried himself in deep and wrapped his arms around Saren as he let himself go too.

In the aftermath, Garrus couldn’t even remember being rolled onto his side. He only knew that Saren remained in his arms long after their breathing had returned to normal and their hides cooled from not only the sex but the sparring as well.

Despite the slightly musty sheets, sleep came easily. Once Saren went pliant in his arms, Garrus allowed himself to drift off completely. His mind remained blank through the night. There were no dreams to haunt him, only the comforting scent of his lover and the sounds of his breath.

+-+-+-+

Rejoining the _Normandy_ wasn’t as simple a task as Saren had expected it to be.

Not only were he and Garrus _late,_ for the first time in his Spirits damned life, but security had been increased through customs to handle the ‘incident’ in the prefab foundry the day prior. Admittedly, he and Garrus hadn’t been too discreet about removing the Blue Suns mercenaries on their way to take-down Harkin.

They were met in the airlock by Shepard. The man rested back into his hip with his arms crossed over his chest and a brow raised as he eyed them both. Before Saren could simply ignore him, Garrus took the lead.

“How was Beckenstein?” Garrus asked as the door closed behind them and the airlock began to cycle. Saren stood quietly behind him, allowing the other two to stand next to one another by the inner door as the decontamination cycle ran.

“Let’s just say it worked out well enough.” Shepard’s mouth slid into a grin as he turned to look at Saren for a moment before going back to Garrus. Saren had missed something but he didn’t care enough to ask what it was. He and Shepard had been on precarious footing ever since their argument, he wasn’t about to upset the balance now. “Heard there was some commotion on the Citadel? Something about a major gang bust.”

“Was there?" Garrus canted his head to the side, the very picture of false innocence. "First I've heard about it."

“Uh huh…” the Spectre mumbled, shaking his head.

Saren could have laughed at how blatantly his partner lied to his friend’s face. It was easy to see that the human didn’t believe him in the slightest either but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Got some good news at least,” Shepard told Garrus as they crossed the CIC on the way to the elevator. He brought up his omnitool and started a data transfer. “Our next dossier came in.”

“Hm?” Garrus hummed his interest while pulling up the new data. While they stepped into the lift, his partner chuckled and his mandibles shifted into a grin. “No way.”

“We’re bringing the squad back together,” Shepard clasped his hand over Garrus’ shoulder and he smiled back at him.

Curious, Saren took a half step closer as he checked the dossier.

_// Tali’Zorah Vas Neema - Quarian Engineer //_

+-+-+-+

Saren paced his quarters.

There was nothing left for him to do. His gear was taken care of and Garrus was ground-side for the rescue mission without him. Shepard had taken Lawson as their third. She’d apparently never seen geth outside of combat simulations. Whether that was the actual reasoning for his being left behind or not, he didn’t know. It was quite possible that Shepard still didn’t trust him, not with the geth at least.

Sighing, he stopped at the viewport to look out at the planet below them. It was a dust-washed rock in yellows and greys. The entire side he could see was in sunlight. There were no oceans nor defining features whatsoever. Why the quarians thought it good enough for colonization, he didn’t know. Nor have an inclination to care, really.

 _“Arterius?”_ the AI’s voice came over the comm unit. _“As per your request, the shuttle is returning to the Normandy. Estimating arrival in thirty minutes.”_

“Thank you,” he replied, the words falling from his maw before he could think to stop them. Privately, he wasn’t sure he liked addressing the AI as if it were sentient, let alone that he was slowly starting to see it that way. Shepard’s influence must have been rubbing off on him in this as well.

After all, his last experience with an advanced AI wasn’t exactly a positive one.

Saren blinked away that line of thought before it could consume him. Shoving off the cool pane, he turned and headed for the door without another word.

The galley was his destination. Garrus would need to eat when he returned and, assuming the mission went according to plan, they’d now have a quarian as well. While he didn’t particularly care about this Tali'Zorah, beyond remembering it was her testimony that stripped him of his Spectre status, he did know that she was Garrus’ friend. He’d told him as much during transit while they’d rested. Begrudgingly, Shepard accepted their relationship -or at least Saren thought the human did. It would be better for Garrus if others did as well.

Tali’Zorah had simply been another piece on the Kepesh-Yakshi board. Now that he wasn’t indoctrinated, Saren knew his actions were reprehensible. He’d moved on. Ideally, she would too as Shepard had.

The mess was empty as he started work. The dish he made was of quarian origin, using a more similar spice palate to what they grew on their liveships. Protein paste mixed with vegetables and served over grains. It was a little annoying for a turian to eat as there was no tearing involved, simply dropping spoonfuls of food into the back of one’s mouth, but that would be better for Garrus too. The more time they spent together, the more Saren realized the trouble his injury was causing his partner. Without proper time to heal, not to mention the additional damage done by his own hand during their sparring match, it would be a problem for a while yet.

As Saren worked, he was joined by Jack.

She was not a subtle creature. Though Jack said nothing as her boots scraped against the floor, she yawned loudly to make her presence known. Saren didn’t acknowledge her as the human moved around him to begin making that acrid-smelling drink humans seemed to prefer. While it was brewing, she hopped up on the edge of the counter and watched him.

“So...." Jack trailed off.  
  
Intent on the task at hand, Saren stirred the mixture around while he waited for her to continue. But as the seconds ticked by, it became apparent that she wanted his undivided attention. So, stifling his mild irritation, he glanced over his shoulder and flicked his mandible in acknowledgement. The paste needed time to thicken anyway.  
  
“Loverboy is sleeping in your room now.”

It was a statement that Saren decided to ignore. He went back to his pan.

“That’s good, right?”

For a moment, the turian kept working. He fetched bowls and the sterilizing appliance that he’d seen while searching the cabinets a few weeks ago. When it became apparent that Jack wasn’t going to let it go, he relented: “Yes.”

“Good. Things seemed-” she paused, kicking her feet out and allowing them to bang against the counter once. “-rough the other day.”

The beverage maker pinged and Saren turned toward it, reaching into a second cabinet and grabbing one of the human-styled mugs. He filled the vessel and added the three spoonfuls of white powder he’d seen her add on her own before passing her the drink. “Circumstances have changed.”

Looking from the mug to his face with a raised brow, Jack took it.

Before she could say anything else, the AI came over the comm unit again to inform him the lift was on its approach to the crew deck. He turned back to the heating element and scraped the sauce into the vegetable mixture before turning the heat off. Three distinct sets of boots crossed the deck, two he recognized and one he did not.

The rhythmic clip of Lawson’s boots continued after the other two had stopped moving. She went straight to her office without saying a word.

A warm hum of greeting met Saren and his mandibles shifted into a slight smile. He tilted his head to see Garrus standing beside a very shocked-looking quarian. The small female was clad in a purple and black suit, both of her hands were pulled up in front of her chest and her luminescent eyes glowed against her tinted visor.

Behind him, Jack snickered.

His gaze returned to the pan and he set out three portions, taking Garrus and Tali'Zorah’s with him to the table. Jack followed with her coffee in one hand and his own portion in the other. As she set it down, he hummed a mild thanks. He’d been expecting to return to the kitchen for his own bowl, as it was more polite to serve others before oneself.

Saren sat down in his usual place and tapped his talons against the table's surface in a fairly standard turian grace. Jack sat beside him, her legs crossed beneath her in a way that was only possible due to her lack of spurs.

Out of his periphery, he watched Garrus nudge Tali toward the table. She appeared skeptical at best and terrified at worst. Her pace was slow, as though her boots were made of lead. Eventually, they were both seated opposite them. Garrus’ gauntleted talons performed the same action as his own had and that was enough of a signal to start eating as any. Saren’s gaze dropped to his bowl and he ignored the rest of them.

“Tali, this is Jack,” Garrus introduced the females before looking to him. “And well… you know Saren.”

Silence grew between the table’s occupants, only broken by the scrape of Garrus’ utensil against the bottom of his bowl and Jack’s breath over her coffee as she cooled it.

Across from him, Garrus’ mandibles shifted into a frown. One of his hands had clasped the back of his neck as he looked from Saren back to Tali'Zorah. The quarian’s expression had shifted from wide-eyed shock to narrow-eyed skepticism and wariness. She had yet to touch her food. Saren doubted there was any way around her incredulousness, so he didn’t try to change her mind. It would be slow, just as it was with Shepard… if Shepard was even won over yet.

Before Garrus could attempt to break the tension, the human biotic did it for him. Her mug clicked as she placed it down in front of her, calling both Garrus’ and Tali'Zorah’s attention.

“Never met a quarian before,” Jack announced, she leaned forward with her elbows on the table’s smooth surface and her chin resting on her hands.

Said quarian’s gaze finally left Saren and she looked at the human instead. Just as his own eyes had done the first time he met Jack, hers travelled over the expansive set of tattoos before she settled on the woman’s face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Her voice was a little hesitant, accented like most of her species and a bit electronic sounding coming from her suit. He’d only heard a few quarians speak without a helmet on and usually… the reasoning for their lack of a helmet wasn’t anything good.

“You worked with Shepard before?”

“I… I did. Yes. With Garrus too, on the first _Normandy.”_ She glanced at Saren briefly before looking back at Jack. A nervous tick, he expected. “It was an experience.”

Jack laughed. “I’ll bet!”

The conversation began flowing a little better after that, Garrus interjecting as he saw fit while Tali'Zorah discussed her role on the ship during the initial mission. He’d known it was the recording she stole from a geth data core that gave Shepard the evidence he needed to strip him of his Spectre status. But now, he also found out it was the quarian who had been proficient at destroying the geth and keeping the ship’s engines up to par for their long expeditions in space. Despite her diminutive stature and apparent nervousness, she was useful.

Saren finished eating and waited patiently for Garrus to finish. Even Tali’Zorah began eating after the first few minutes of their conversation and she seemed pleasantly surprised to find dinner more than edible, even after it went through the sterilizer.

When Garrus stood and picked up the dishes, he let his talons scrape along the back of Saren’s glove. A warm hum of gratitude met him and it was enough for Saren to know that his efforts were appreciated. Beside him, the quarian ducked a little down in her seat and averted her gaze sheepishly. Jack rolled her eyes, used to the small affections between them by now.

Saren stood to follow Garrus to the kitchen.

“Um… Saren?” he turned to see the quarian wringing her hands in front of her. He raised a brow-plate in question, waiting. “Thank you.”

He hummed a curt _you’re welcome_ and joined Garrus in the kitchen to start the kettle. It was going to be a long few weeks before the newcomer adapted but with Garrus beside him, it didn’t matter.

+-+-+-+

As days passed them by, the crew began to integrate.

Meals for the dextro crew members continued to take place after the humans ate but now they typically included both Tali’Zorah and Jack. The pair were slowly becoming inseparable. The human already spent most of her time in the bowels of the ship, below the engine room where the quarian took up a position as the lead engineer, and it forced them to interact regularly by proximity. Then more by choice as Jack invited Tali’Zorah to the card games she played with the other two engineers.

It was an… odd relationship. But no more so than Saren and Jack’s own as he continued to teach her biotic techniques in the cargo bay during travel days and she helped to keep him busy whenever Garrus was off the ship without him.

While he was more of a mentor to the young biotic, the quarian became her friend. Garrus tended to be the go-between, between Saren and Tali’Zorah.

It was after Tuchanka and when they were on their way to Pragia that the next lead fell upon them. Saren and Garrus joined Shepard in the lift. There was something he needed their expertise on.

“Alright, we got another Collector lead,” Shepard began once the elevator began moving upward. “Plan’s changed and Jack’s going to have to wait a couple days before we can blow stuff up.”

The door opened for them and Shepard led the way into the cockpit.

“Hey, Commander,” the pilot spun around in his chair at the sound of their footsteps. As always, he flinched upon seeing Saren’s looming figure behind Garrus and Shepard. Whatever snarky remark had been sitting on his tongue remained there.

“Joker, pull up that transmission again,” Shepard ordered and Moreau twisted his chair back around to his console immediately to find whatever the message was. “It’s a Hierarchy Distress signal.”

“Illusive Man apparently intercepted it out by the Korlus system,” the pilot explained. “Not sure how… there’s nothing out there.” Saren considered the comment silently while Garrus gave him a thoughtful hum. “EDI thinks there’s something weird about it, too.”

The AI’s orb appeared beside the door. _“It appeared as though the patrol ship took out the Collector ship’s systems which should not have been possible. I am still analyzing the transmission.”_

“Garrus should take a look at it,” Saren said, his eyes flicking to his partner before going back to the Spectre. “He knows the Hierarchy coding system better than anyone else on this ship.”

There was a slight hum of embarrassment from Garrus, not that the humans could understand it regardless, but the younger turian did step up beside the pilot to see the coding as the message played. The words were what Saren expected them to be: location, situation, ship name….

“It’s a fake,” Garrus announced a bare moment after the transmission ended. His fingers slid across the console without concern for the fact it was set up for five-fingered hands. “Here, you can see the breakdown and then there’s a fragment missing.”

Shepard sighed, one of his hands rising to rub over his face. “Figures.”

“We should still go, Shepard,” Garrus told him. “If there’s really a disabled Collector ship out there....”

Silently, Saren agreed with his partner. His confidence in Garrus had grown over the past weeks as he removed himself from his self-imposed solitude in the forward battery. Not only had he been more social in general but he was proving himself an equal to Shepard on the battlefield as well as in tactics. Unsurprisingly, the human did agree and they cast off from their intended course for yet another mission against the Collectors.

“ETA just under sixteen hours, Commander,” the pilot said.

“Rest up,” Shepard told the two of them, his eyes passing from Garrus to Saren and back. “I’ll see you both in the cargo bay thirty minutes before we drop.”

Saren flicked his crest in agreement and Garrus replied verbally before they headed for the elevator back down to the crew deck. The silence between them was companionable. Garrus stood close to him and there was no argument when he tilted his crest toward their quarters, inviting Garrus to join him.

Garrus grinned and pushed in closer to him as the door closed. They did have sixteen hours after all.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've resolved 'Act One', I'm taking a short break from posting. I have every intention of finishing this story so bear with me. I'll be back. Thank you so much to all my regular readers and all the new ones too. I'm so happy that there are people out there enjoying this as much as I am. 
> 
> <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  Saren allowed silence to take over the room. At the workbench, Garrus was quiet and he’d stopped fiddling with the prosthetic. A thousand questions shifted through Saren’s mind before he settled on one.
> 
> “This is more important than destroying the Collectors?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a nice long chapter to tide you over until I've got the second arc all worked out! Hope you enjoy it.  
> \---  
> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Game of Survival - Ruelle**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PS_lfjK9uBE)

Faults and Fortitude - 8

\- - -

To say that the Collector ship run went smoothly would be highly inaccurate.

The _Normandy_ had arrived ahead of schedule, fifteen hours and thirty-three minutes later. Shepard had already been lingering in the cargo bay with Jack, waiting for their arrival. Garrus had slept the majority of the afternoon. Apparently, the main gun was set to be upgraded in the coming days and he was otherwise task-less once his equipment was dealt with. And Saren had spent his time cleaning and maintaining his armour and prosthetic.

Not that it mattered now… his arm was wrecked.

Saren growled as he attempted to work the metal limb free from its socket. He stood alone in his quarters, still splattered with gore from the Collector beasts. Garrus had remained in the cockpit to help the pilot run a diagnostic on the AI. Two sets of eyes were preferable in matters of code, inherently he knew that. It didn’t change the fact he needed Garrus’ assistance.

One of the massive doors had broken the limb. It had been -mostly- intentional on Saren’s part. The Collectors had tried to close off their exit point, and he’d stopped that from happening. Shepard and Jack were too far away and they would have been trapped if Saren allowed the door to close. In a split-second decision, he’d wedged himself in the way and forced his prosthetic and biotics to hold the door open. Shepard had slid under his arm and Jack had launched herself overtop of him but not before Saren heard the sickening snap.

He hadn’t felt anything.

With a huff of disapproval, Saren leaned back against the desk he’d set up for himself and stewed. It was good that he hadn’t felt anything. He wouldn’t have been able to keep Jack and Shepard from harm if it had been his real arm. He may have been able to withstand a fair amount of pain but intentionally allowing his own bones to be snapped was not among the things he was willing to do.

Caring for a squad was more difficult than fending for himself. As a Spectre, he’d had Nihlus and Avitus to care for on a regular basis. Otherwise, he was alone.

At least fighting through the factory full of Blue Suns had felt more similar to that. Just him and Garrus. With Shepard and the rest… it was different. People were depending on him. An entire team, like when he’d worked under his brother before becoming a Spectre.

Some of the tension left his spine.

It had been a damn long time since he’d thought about those days. Desolas and Abrudas primarily but he remembered each of their squad members' names, just as Garrus remembered his own. And while Garrus’ team had been betrayed, Saren had killed his own by himself in the orbital strike.

The biotic was so far stuck in his head that he didn’t notice the door opening until it slid shut behind Garrus. There had been words on the sniper’s tongue, yet they fell away at the sight of him. Without a sound, Garrus entered his bubble and wrapped one hand around the back of his fringe.

Saren gave in.

Their crests pressed against one another’s and Saren’s only working hand clasped onto the rim of the other turian’s cowl. It was too much. Between the dam breaking on the Citadel a little over a week ago and the stress of the mission -the Collector monstrosities turning out to be protheans. Garrus coming to him on his own. There was only so much one turian could withstand.

A few minutes passed them by. It was only enough time for Saren to begin stowing memories back where they belonged into the dark corner of his mind reserved for sentimentality. Garrus slid back, looking him over before his gaze landed on the broken arm. He thrummed the question, asking if he could help without words. Saren simply had to nod.

Garrus’ mandibles shifted into the focused expression he wore while working through a coding problem. It was almost enough to shift Saren’s own mouth into a smile, but instead, he remained impassive. First, Garrus removed the armour and placed it on the desk behind him. Then he crouched to get a better look at the break.

It didn’t take long before Garrus found the root cause: the metal had been warped by the pressure and an internal part of the structure had snapped. “You’re going to need a new one,” he said.

Saren didn’t reply, his gaze flicking from his partner to the viewport. Instead of watching as Garrus set about removing the arm, he regarded the stars and the wisps of mass effect field that surrounded the ship. A new prosthetic meant they’d need to go back to Omega or some other major hub. It was inconvenient.

“Shepard wanted to early the upgrade schedule,” Garrus said. “We’re docking on Omega in a few hours. Should be able to find a specialist. Mordin will know someone.”

Sighing, Saren nodded. “That will do.”

There was a small click before Saren recognized the familiar pull of the servos loosening off and then the weight of his arm disappeared. Again, it didn’t hurt but the feeling was uncomfortable. He felt misaligned. Garrus placed the limb down onto the workbench and began looking it over in more detail. Perhaps he thought something could be salvaged… it _had_ cost him a fair number of credits to procure. Once Garrus finished, Saren would look it over as well. Until then, he was content to wait. Taking his armour off would be cumbersome and if he waited long enough, Garrus might offer to do it for him.

The revelations of the day weighed on him. Had Saren been allowed to succeed two years ago in bringing the Reapers to the Milky Way they would have ended up like the protheans. Mindless, grotesque creatures without a Spirit. Now he knew for certain that servitude was worse than death. He agreed with Shepard wholeheartedly and was even more dedicated to the cause than when he’d been when first offered a place on the _Normandy._ Saren would ensure the safety of the galaxy he’d sworn his life to protect and now he knew the proper way to go about it.

While his mind was stuck on those facts, he watched Garrus out of his periphery, ideas already forming in his mind for what they could spend the next few hours doing. He wanted a clearer head. With his partner wrapped in his arms, it was easier.

His mind made up, Saren began to move toward Garrus, reaching for him with his remaining arm-

The door pinged, abruptly ending Saren’s pursuit before it could truly begin. He didn’t halt the irritated growl that left his chest and when Garrus chuckled, his eyes narrowed into a glare.

Pushing off the desk, Saren went to see who had decided that now was an appropriate time to interrupt. Instead of the expected parties of either Jack or Shepard, the asari Justicar stood in the entryway. Her face a serene mask as it had been the day he met her.

“Justicar,” Saren greeted.

“I am interrupting,” she replied, her placid gaze moved from his empty shoulder socket to the worktable. “I apologize.”

Despite the apology, Samara made no move to leave. “May I come in?” she asked.

Saren pricked his tongue on the back edge of his teeth, stifling an annoyed grunt, and gestured to the couches with his remaining arm. Taking his offer, she sat down in the same place Garrus had taken the first night he’d brought kava, after Horizon. He joined her in his usual seat and waited. A brief glance at Garrus showed him paying attention, yet he didn’t move to join them.

“I am in the uncomfortable position of asking for your assistance, Spectre Arterius,” she began as her hands folded in her lap. “For all my years as a Justicar, there have been two targets able to avoid me. Your protégé, Spectre Kryik, and my own daughter, Morinth.”

Saren managed to keep his own expression from changing, though he heard a tool clatter against the desk as Garrus drop a tool behind him. He paid the younger male no mind. It was unimportant. His gaze did not shift from Samara’s even as she continued on, explaining herself.

“My daughter is an Ardat-Yakshi. It is my duty to destroy her.”

He blinked once. He’d heard of the asari genetic defect before but never crossed paths with someone who knew one… let alone made one. Saren was not deterred. “You seem to think this has something to do with Nihlus.”

“As the turian who trained him, you must be skilled,” Samara said, smoothly lacing her request with a compliment. It was a standard tactic, though in this sense it fell flat. Saren did not want to be reminded of Nihlus anymore than he already was. Perhaps she was unaware that he’d killed his own protégé… or perhaps she was since she spoke of killing her own child. Though the weight of the actions was similar, the circumstances were not. “I received information she is on Omega. I am requesting your assistance to kill her.”

Saren allowed silence to take over the room. At the workbench, Garrus was quiet and he’d stopped fiddling with the prosthetic. A thousand questions shifted through Saren’s mind before he settled on one.

“This is more important than destroying the Collectors?”

Her serene mask faltered. His question was the correct one. “It is not. However, my reasoning is two-fold. Not only will this final task leave me free to serve Shepard’s mission to my death… but it will also remove one different horror from the galaxy. A galaxy you swore an oath to protect.”

Stifling a growl, Saren prompted: “You have a plan, I assume?”

“I do,” she answered. It was at that moment her gaze drifted beyond Saren to Garrus. The other turian had resumed work, Saren could hear the scrape of metal on metal as a tool moved across the limb. Somehow, Saren did not think he was going to enjoy what she said next.

+-+-+-+

By the time they arrived on Omega, it was the start of the station’s day cycle. If the perpetual night could even really be called a cycle at all. It made Garrus long for Palaven in ways he hadn’t in years. Perhaps part of the longing was just a piece of his own coping mechanism for having to be on Omega again.

He didn’t know. Not that it really mattered.

Walking through the streets in plainclothes felt strange too, despite Saren remaining at his side. Without the bulk of his heavy armour, he felt woefully unprotected and the still-healing side of his face almost seemed to burn a little extra for the stale air here. He didn’t even have his visor. Saren had refused him that, too. It was too recognizable. Garrus had grumbled about it, no one had ever seen his face as Archangel, but Saren knew best.

They were both disguised. Saren’s plates were tinted darker and he bore basic white colony markings across his mandibles. The all-black suit he wore was cut to his form perfectly, accentuating his lean stature. Garrus’ own disguise was simpler, white paint covering the blue geometric pattern and he wore none of his usual accoutrements. When he checked his omnitool for the fifth time since leaving the _Normandy_ , Saren snapped at him to stop it.

First, they visited a prosthetic specialist who came highly recommended from Mordin. Saren had been fitted for an arm and the rush order was made. His new arm would be built overnight. However, today he would remain an amputee as he’d refused the offer of a loaner. It wasn’t worth getting used to the weight only to swap it out once again.

Then they had procured supplies for the coming weeks on the _Normandy:_ food, weapons and armour upgrades and parts. All of the more specialized materials that Saren preferred over what was provided for them by Miranda and Cerberus. By the time afternoon hit, there was a little downtime for lunch at a quiet turian-run cafe.

It almost felt like a date.

Saren picked the restaurant and ordered them an appetizer to start while they looked over the menus. A glass of expensive wine helped to soothe Garrus’ nerves. The prospect of becoming ‘bait’ for a murderous genetic freak of an asari was not something he particularly appreciated. Yet, he understood the need for his assistance from listening to Samara speak. It was either him or Shepard.

Morinth could not be allowed to live.

Their journey through Omega led them to the more upper-class district, Kenlu.

Here, the streets were clean and if not for the red-tinged lighting then it could have been mistaken for seedier part of Illium. Aria’s gang kept this place free of petty crimes and the citizens were generally well off. Not a varren nor vorcha was in sight.

The smell of Omega still filled his nose: stale air and sickness. Even in Kenlu where they changed the air filters with some regularity, they couldn’t escape it entirely.

“We’re here,” Saren announced as he veered off and entered a store to their left.

Garrus took a moment to follow him, scanning the storefront with a skeptical gaze: _Cipritine, upscale turian wares_. It was nondescript and without windows. Having no other choice, Garrus followed Saren inside.

He hadn’t been quite sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t what he found. It was a posh clothing shop. The room was comfortably lit for a turian, not overly bright like the _Normandy_ but not so dark as it was outside on Omega. Clothing racks with a handful of pieces were displayed and as Garrus looked around he didn’t see a single price tag.

Three customer service representatives, two turians and an asari, were milling about while a fourth, a salarian, was talking to Saren. They looked back at him as he entered and then went back to speaking with one another, almost like they were ignoring him. Garrus knew better. They were far from ignoring him, they were talking _about_ him.

Stepping beside Saren, Garrus tried to stow his nerves. He wanted to help Samara and that meant he needed to look the part. Morinth was apparently attracted to dangerous people so his scars would be well received, they also needed someone younger as Morinth didn’t trend toward middle-aged victims. She liked them young. Her last victim had been human and she tended to shift between species, meaning neither Shepard nor Jack would have been appropriate.

He was the best option.

The salarian was watching him appraisingly with large, black eyes. “Have many styles,” she kept her eyes on him but it was clear she was talking to Saren. “Can try them if you wish? Yes?”

“That is acceptable,” Saren replied as flicked his wrist to open his omnitool, looking bored as he pressed a few keys. The ‘tool had been set up for single handed use before they’d left the ship. “Although, we are on a time limit.”

“Of course,” she gestured to the back of the store and Garrus heard her omnitool ping. As they walked, she peeked at the quick display and the long-legged salarian nearly tripped over herself. “Kalasa! Bring drinks for esteemed guests.”

Garrus felt his mandibles shift into a smirk. Apparently, Saren tipped well.

From there, he was ushered into a change room and all four of the attendants were suddenly assisting them. The smell of fine kava reached his nose, but nary a drop ever managed to pass his maw. He was too busy trying on clothing for Saren. Everything from suits made of real _vret_ hide to ones made of a newfangled polymer that self-regulated the wearer’s temperature graced his plates. Not one of the attendants made mentions of his scars or his frame, they simply assisted him to dress and undress as per Saren’s instructions.

All the while, his partner sat just outside, watching him come in and out of the curtained off space. In his only hand, he swirled a glass of what Garrus expected was brandy. Though he wasn’t passive, as the attendants tore the store apart to find the perfect outfit, Saren would toss in his own suggestions. First, the shirts weren’t fitting his plates right and then the boots looked too soft.

By the time Saren settled on something he liked, almost an hour had passed.

They left with Garrus donned in his new mission outfit and a small wardrobe set to be delivered to the _Normandy_ before they were scheduled to depart. The items would all be tailored to fit and it was honestly more clothes than Garrus knew how to handle. He’d never been much for style. Uniforms were always good enough and in his off hours, as long as it was comfortable, he didn’t care. Saren had changed his opinion, if only slightly.

Supple leather boots clad his feet and a pair of black pants were loose on Garrus, intentionally so. They draped over his hips, showing off his sharp angles and they ended well beneath his abdomen to show off the lean cut of his waist. His shirt was red, a deep colour that offset his blue eyes and contrasted with the white paint they’d used to cover his blue colony markings. Fringe clips clinked gently against one another on his left side.

“You’re walking like a soldier,” Saren quietly chided as he swept in against his side, his mouth coming close enough for Garrus to feel breath on his hide. Saren’s hand fell to his lower back, guiding him along as he changed their pace. “Adjust.”

Their gait slowed a fraction and the steps became less organized, footfalls not landing in a perfect line anymore. Within a block, Garrus understood and Saren let go. They reached Afterlife not long after that.

Garrus took his time inhaling Saren’s scent one last time before he moved his gaze upward toward the stairs leading to the VIP section of Afterlife. He would have simply departed if Saren’s hand hadn’t caught around his wrist to stop him from leaving so soon. Saren’s mandibles shifted in uncertainty before pinning themselves to his jaw.

Suddenly, Garrus found himself shoved into the nearest alley and pressed up against a wall. Saren’s hand closed around the base of his throat, possessive and demanding. “When this is over,” he began before cutting off his words and pressing his crest to Garrus’ instead. Garrus could taste the barest scent of brandy in the air between them. Saren wasn’t drunk by any means but now the sniper could tell it wasn’t simply his own nerves that were on display.

Saren was worried, too.

Garrus hummed a reassuring sound to his partner, trailing his talons up the edge of his arm as Saren let go of him and stepped back.

“Play the part,” Saren said. “Get her alone. We’ll be following you.”

He nodded and bumped his crest against Saren’s one final time before leaving him alone in the alleyway. The stairs were taken two at a time and he walked in the looser manner as Saren instructed.

Stepping up to the turian bouncer with a white-painted skull over his dark grey plates, Garrus said: “I hear Jaruut’s going to be here tonight.”

“You might be right,” the male looked him up and down, an appreciative rumble falling between them. “If you don’t have any luck, my shift is over in an hour….”

Garrus flicked his mandible in thanks and headed inside. He had a mission to accomplish.

Striding into the bar with his head held high, Garrus allowed a grin to spread his mandibles. The glass of alcohol at lunch was long out of his system but despite that, he was still feeling at least a little confidence in himself. The appreciative looks he’d been getting from Saren all day helped as did the unsolicited come-on from the bouncer.

Before the rocket, he’d considered himself to be rather handsome. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Saren didn’t seem to care much about the scars, perhaps because he’d been disfigured himself when they’d first met between the Reaper tech and his own missing arm. It didn’t change the fact that it was nice to receive positive attention instead of wide-eyed gaping.

It was busy as Garrus looked around, casually casing the joint. He’d been up to the VIP section a handful of times as Archangel. It was an excellent place to gather intel and unwind a bit with some semblance of security. Aria kept a much tighter leash on this section.

Patrons danced around the circular dais in the middle of the room, employees in skimpy outfits brought drink orders and entertained, bartenders were busy making drinks and security meandered about. There were no fights. The music was muted enough to hear the edge of conversations taking place.

For his first order of business, Garrus headed for the bar. Already, he could see a batarian trying to get a little too close to one of the asari bartenders. He stepped up and raised his talons, indicating to her specifically. A moment later, she managed to get away from the male by using him as an excuse. It didn’t bother Garrus in the slightest, in fact as she approached he leaned in to speak with her.

“He giving you problems?” the disguised sniper asked, keeping his voice low.

The asari gave him a smile and moved into his bubble. “A little, why? Do you want to bother me instead?” She eyed him up and down, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“For a drink, maybe?” he looked over at the batarian and glared, adding a possessive growl for added effect. He made himself scarce quickly after that.

She watched and giggled, leaning in to run her fingers across his forearm. “What’ll it be, handsome?”

“Cipritine clear, before 2100 if it’s on hand.”

The asari grinned and popped off to grab the _very expensive_ drink for him. Saren had slipped a credit chit into his pocket after lunch with more credits on it than he knew what to do with. Internally, he scoffed at himself. Between the clothes and gear… he almost felt like a kept turian. It was far-flung from barely scraping by in his first days on Omega.

When she returned, he tipped her well and then turned around to survey the bar. Raising his glass, he noted the perfectly clear blue colour against the cool overhead lighting before he took his first sip. The liquid had no burn as it soothed his throat and warmed him from the inside.

Around him, he could see a few of the _Normandy_ squad dotted into the crowd. They would have arrived sporadically throughout the night. Shepard had been reluctant to agree to the mission at all, let alone without providing Garrus backup. Despite being a two-metre tall turian against a single asari, he was unarmed and she had biotics as strong as Samara’s.

The shimmer of Kasumi’s cloak was up in the rafters, Zaeed sat on the far end of the bar brooding into a glass of whiskey, and Shepard and Miranda were in a booth talking. Having the others around helped make him feel more secure. Saren and Samara were supposed to be waiting outside and he didn’t catch sight of either of them as he finished his casual scan.

Another sip and he felt the tension drop a little further. He was glad Saren wasn’t watching. They… hadn’t exactly discussed their relationship at length despite becoming almost inseparable. Part of that was because they lived and worked together. They had yet to get on one another’s nerves and Garrus considered that a positive sign.

Placing his empty glass down on the bartop, Garrus pushed himself out into the crowd and headed for the dance floor. It was simple to begin dancing on his own with the pleasant buzz of fine alcohol fogging his senses. A few minutes and he’d feel less tipsy but for the moment it helped him start swaying to the music along with the rest of the patrons.

Another turian found him intriguing enough to look at to begin dancing with him. Her hands traced along the lines of his shoulders and her friend’s -an asari- slid across his back. They made a sandwich of him as they danced. Despite the mission, Garrus found that he was enjoying himself. Here, he was as safe as he was ever going to be and he was also supposed to let loose for the sake of the mission.

Once he started to tire, Garrus begged off in search of another drink.

The pair pouted but let him go without much difficulty, inviting him back later if he felt like some fun. Garrus couldn’t stop the chuckle from rumbling out of his maw. The turian female was particularly flirtatious with her own vocals and tongue as it traced along her asari partner’s throat.

Shaking his head, Garrus left them and headed for the bar. However, his destination was delayed when a red krogan stumbled into him, having been pushed by a grey one. Garrus helped to ensure the first alien didn’t fall before glaring at the two of them. Fighting would get you thrown out of this section.

“Take it outside,” he growled.

The grey krogan snarled at him. “Mind your own business, turian.”

Red chuckled. “What? You work for Aria or something?”

Garrus rolled his eyes, flicking out a mandible in annoyance. He tried to bypass the first krogan and was stopped by the second with a firm grip on his shoulder. It was his injured side and the vice-like grip hurt enough for him to need to stifle a wince. “Gonna answer him?” Grey asked.

Without pause, Garrus grabbed the krogan’s hand and quickly snapped one of his massive fingers in a well-practiced twist. It hurt but caused no lasting damage with krogan regenerative abilities. While Grey backed off, holding his injured paw like the child he was, Red advanced on him.

“What’d you do?”

Garrus turned his glare on Red. They were juveniles. Maybe not even through their rite. How they’d made it into Afterlife, Garrus didn’t know or particularly care. “Same thing I’ll do to you if you don’t step aside.”

Stupidly, Red lunged and Garrus merely had to sidestep him. To ensure the krogan didn’t run into anyone else, Garrus followed, grabbed his arm and then wrenched it up behind his back. Looking around, two of the bouncers were already on their way over. He let off before the arm snapped.

“Everything all right here?” the turian guard asked with an annoyed buzz in his subvocals. He looked to Garrus briefly before glaring at the whining krogan. It was obvious who’d won. It didn’t matter who started the fight.

Garrus tilted his crest politely. “Fine, these two were just leaving.”

The turian sighed. “Up you get, Taz. That’s enough for one night.”

He let the bouncers escort the two broken krogan out and found himself a seat. The bar had gotten busier over the past half hour, waiting on the bartender would take a few minutes. The asari from earlier caught his eye after a moment and she winked at him. He knew it wouldn’t be long now. Garrus stretched out his neck and rubbed at the tight muscles for a moment, attempting to feign inattention.

It worked well enough, as less than a minute later a presence appeared behind him. The newcomer made his plates itch and Garrus had to fight the urge to turn around. The salarian sitting beside him got up and left, and an asari smoothly dropped onto the vacated stool.

As calmly as he could, Garrus casually dropped his talons to the bar and turned to look at her, side-long. It was as if a younger version of Samara had sat down beside him. The fringe was the same, her eyes the exact shape and nose tilted upward at the perfect angle her mother’s was.

“My name’s Morinth,” her voice was like silk as she eyed him up and down, the move brazen and more similar to turian flirting than asari if he was being honest. “I’ve been watching you. You’re the most interesting person in this place.” She settled down onto the recently vacated stool, leaning against the bar on one elbow to accentuate her waist, completely at home. Garrus eyed her in return, flicking his mandible in greeting before turning back to try and capture his bartender’s attention.

“Some nights I come here and there’s no one interesting to talk to,” Morinth continued, undeterred by his inattention to her. “Some nights, there’s just one person.”

Garrus tipped his crest toward her, showing off the sharpness of his teeth as he chanced a snarky reply. “Let me guess. Tonight, it’s me.”

The asari laughed, her hand reaching out to brush gently along his bare wrist. “I know what I like,” she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling at him. It wasn’t a kind expression, more like she was considering which piece of steak to spear next. “Tonight it just so happens to be you. You’ve got a beautiful array of scars and a killer sense of style. What’s not to like?”

Garrus scoffed at the compliment, ducking his head enough to cover his throat. He didn’t want to act too wary but Samara had warned him against being too eager as well. “I’m far less interesting than you might have imagined.”

“I doubt that,” Morinth looked at his scars again, tracing them with her gaze. “This is a dark, dangerous place. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Perhaps,” he hummed.

The asari bartender from earlier approached them. Looking from him-“The same as earlier?” To Morinth: “The usual?”

“Please,” Morinth replied without taking her gaze off Garrus. “On my tab and make his a double if you wouldn't mind, Velenta.”

Without a word, ‘Valenta’ disappeared to fetch drinks. If he wasn’t imagining things, then the bartender was nervous around the other asari. Perhaps she knew of the game that Morinth played here in the VIP lounge.

“I see someone's feeling generous,” the sniper said as he turned to meet Morinth’s eyes for the first time. They were blue, like her mother’s but they had none of the serenity he noted. No… Morinth’s eyes were full of fire, there was almost a predatory glow to them.

“My pleasure.” She waved him off, a 200 credit drink purchased without a second thought. “Now… about those dark places, you seem to like them as much as I do.”

“Maybe I do,” he said, tilting his head to the side and turning slightly to look out over the bar. At the moment none of the other crew members were visible. “Or maybe it’s just the music.”

She leaned forward, drawing closer to him as she spoke. “Dark rhythms, violent pulses. It stirs something primitive in me.” She placed her hand on his thigh, the tips of her fingers moving from his knee all the way up his leg. “What about you?”

Garrus inhaled and forced himself to relax the tension that had grown in his thigh after she touched him. He hoped she’d see it as a sign he was interested and not circumspect. “I have to admit, Afterlife tends to have some of the best music on the station.”

“Oh, I agree. What do you like outside the clubs?”

His shoulder raised in a half shrug as his mandible flared out in the turian version of one. “Something a little more rhythmic is more my speed. _Hurt me Deeper_ or something.”

Morinth’s eyes lit up. That had been a little unexpected, but as she exclaimed: “Expel Ten! Oh yes… it just gets inside your head.” He figured he could work with it. Even as she hummed in a mockery of a turian pleased sound. “Mhmm….”

“Of course,” Garrus said. Moving in a little closer, he slid the arm that had been resting on the bar closer to her, almost until they were touching. With his thin shirt, she’d feel his heat. “Can’t get much better than that for a good beat. The lyrics aren’t bad either. They just sort of tear you to pieces, don’t they?”

“You don’t know the half of it!” she gushed. “There’s a concert soon; maybe we should go together.”

He sighed longingly. The sound was a truth, he really would have liked to go. “I’m leaving Omega soon. I’ll have to catch the next one.”

Valenta appeared before Morinth could reply and she placed two glasses down on the bar in front of them. Garrus’ was the same clear blue as earlier and Morith’s was a tall purple tumbler. The bartender gave Garrus a small smile before disappearing back to her other patrons. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It could have easily been a warning.

Either way, he picked up the glass and raised it to the light. There was a reason he’d picked a clear alcohol, it was easier to see if anything had been done to it. Most of the drugs easily accessed on Omega that could kill a turian were coloured. The ones that could impair could be hidden but he was less concerned about that because of his backup. Finding it clear enough, he used the movement to cover his caution with a toast to his companion and then took a sip, humming his gratitude.

She grinned, sipping her own drink. “We should make the most of our night then,” she said, swirling the liquid in her tumbler. “It’s easy enough to just lose yourself in the music here.”

Garrus let out a long sigh. His eyes moving beyond her and back to the crowd. Zaeed was gone from his post, Shepard and Miranda had moved to the dance floor and he couldn’t quite catch the shimmer of Kasumi’s cloak. He reminded himself that it was possible she’d disappeared to let it cool.

“You’re right,” he took a longer sip allowed her to slide closer into him. Any further and she’d be sitting in his lap. Garrus could taste the alcohol on her breath, smell the sweet aroma of whatever product she used to keep her fringe looking soft.

“I don’t even know your name,” Morinth purred. Again, her hand dropped to his thigh and this time she slid it up the length of the smooth, black fabric. Her soft hands didn’t catch on the material. “Tell me.”

“It’s Gabriel,” Garrus answered smoothly. The name was one of a few aliases he used while on Omega. It was the same one he bore whenever he painted himself like a Palaven native from the southern hemisphere.

“Gabriel…” she smiled in a way that might’ve been sweet on most but he could tell her version was a fake. Regardless, he had a job to do and he moved the arm resting on the bar in to gently brush against her shoulder. Morinth took the time to glance at his talons before she continued: “Odd name for a turian.”

He flashed his teeth in a grin, his fingers trailing across the top of her shoulder and then down her spine. “What can I say?” Garrus leaned in toward her this time, his mouth nearly brushing her lips. “My parents were xeno-historians. They liked the lore behind the name.”

“Intrigue me more and more, why don’t you?” she whispered back. As she spoke, her lips just barely brushed against his. The feeling was a little odd, it had been a couple months since he’d last been with an asari. He usually stuck to turians and lately… just Saren.

“Well…” he pulled back to take another sip and then he kept a bit more space between them as he balanced his glass between two fingers. The liquid sloshed a bit as it swayed but he didn’t spill a single drop. “I’ve just finished a contract. Waiting for my pickup.”

“Contract?” her mouth moved closer to his, she wanted the proximity back. He was willing to give it to her. She was close enough that he could taste the fruitiness of her breath on his tongue. “Or do I want to know?”

Garrus adjusted himself in his seat and put the glass down on the bartop so he could use both hands to trace the curve of her hips. “Might be better if you didn’t.” He shifted his weight forward, his mouth just brushing her lips as he dipped his voice an octave and teased: “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” she purred the bold suggestion, following his move to whisper into his ear: “My apartment is nearby, and I want you alone.”

Garrus still couldn’t see any of the crew around and it made him nervous to accept. But the time to act was now. If he refused her they might not get a second chance. “Lead the way.”

She took his hand and led him out into Omega’s perpetual night, their drinks left unfinished on the bar. He caught sight of Zaeed just outside the doors, leaning against a wall and enjoying a cigar with some unknown batarian. The others were still hidden but seeing the grizzled old mercenary was enough.

Saren would be following them too. That thought eased his mind only for a few moments as Morinth appeared to be the touchy sort. She attached herself to his hip and wrapped an arm around his waist. The action, while it felt quite nice, would probably frustrate Saren. He already hated this mission and had barely agreed to it in the first place.

Convincing his partner to allow the mission to go ahead had taken a fair amount of urging. After Samara had explained herself fully and departed, Saren had gone to speak to Shepard alone. While he didn’t know exactly what had occurred between them, he did know that many additional precautions had been added to the plan in addition to Samara’s initial explanation.

The Justicar had wanted it to be him alone in the bar and only her watching the exterior. Neither Shepard nor Saren had stood for that. Though which defensive layers were added by whom, Garrus didn’t know. It didn’t seem to matter.

Stopping to let a small amount of traffic pass in front of them, Morinth stifled a fake yawn. Her hand passed over her lips on its way to his cheek. One of her long fingers turned his head toward her. “Keep me interested, Gabriel.”

“How do you suggest I do that?” he raised a brow-plate and allowed her to manipulate his head for the moment. She stepped in front of him and went up on her toes to brush her lips against his again.

“Figure it out?” she purred.

Garrus merely had to give in and let the asari lead. She kissed him deeply, her hands sliding around his shoulders to pull him down to her level. With very little effort, her tongue slid between his mouth plates to dance along the lines of his teeth. He was familiar enough to make it not entirely awkward, his arms wrapped around her waist and back. One hand slid lower to cup the pleasantly rounded swell of her ass.

He noticed it too late, a slightly chalky texture was on her tongue. It could have been imagined but somehow he doubted that as she passed her tongue over the back of his, almost to the start of his throat. Whatever it was, if anything, would have been consumed by her as well... at least partially. It couldn’t be lethal. It didn’t fit her MO. He hoped….

“Good boy,” Morinth praised as she pulled away, all smiles.

+-+-+-+

When Morinth had told him that she didn’t live too far away, she’d been quite serious. It was barely a ten-minute walk from Afterlife to her building. Security was fairly tight, he noted. The door was coded, two armed guards stood outside wearing Blue Suns armour and he caught sight of a few cameras as they walked through the lavishly decorated foyer.

It was just after they’d stepped into the elevator when Garrus started to feel a little _off_. At first, he wanted to blame it on nerves but the higher they ascended in the glacially paced elevator, the more he began to think it was whatever Morinth had slipped into his mouth during the kiss. Her hand on his waist had gone from cool to warm and it sent little jolts of pleasure up his spine whenever she adjusted. His mouth felt dry and vision a little fuzzy.

Morinth walked him backward into the wall and rose on her toes to kiss him again. He allowed it, letting the siren layer him with affection and wanting touches. By the time the buzzer dinged and she led him down the hall to her penthouse apartment, he could feel his plates were slickened and nearly ready to part.

It wasn’t right. This shouldn’t have felt so good.

Garrus was used to Saren’s rough touch. The other turian’s scent filling his nose and the rhythmic vibrations of subvocals against his hide. He stifled a groan. Thinking about Saren was the wrong choice. It only made him hornier. _Fuck._

Wasting no time, Morinth brought him into the large unit and sat him down on the black leather couch. Glancing around, Garrus noted that no expense had been spared here. From the furnishings to the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall, it was one of the nicest places he’d seen on Omega. It was probably nice enough to rival Aria’s own place.

He knew he should have been trying to gather the layout, looking for exit strategies and potential items to use as weapons. But whatever it was she’d given him made Garrus not care. His plates were on fire with need. His eyes zeroed in on her ass as she walked away from him.

“I love clubs, people, movement, heat,” Morinth said as she headed for the liquor stand across from the couch. She filled two glasses with different kinds of alcohol and returned, offering him one. “I can still hear the bass, like the drums of a great hunt, out for your blood. But here, it’s muted... and you’re safe. Is that what you want, Gabriel?”

The distraction helped. He accepted the drink without taking a sip. “In my experience, people tend to feel the safest right before they die. You’re never safe,” he shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

“I’ve never understood the fascination with safety. Some of us choose differently. Independence over submission,” Morinth sat down next to him, casually twirling her drink in her fingers to mix the liquid a little before she took a sip. “I think we share that, you and I.”

“You compare us,” Garrus said. He stretched his arm out and placed the glass on the square armrest, out of easy grabbing range. Garrus didn’t want to drink anymore, at least he had enough presence of mind for that. “But you don’t know what I’ve seen.”

Morinth grinned and pushed him back into the couch with her free hand. It took almost no effort for her to pin him back to the fabric and climb into his lap. Her forearms rested on his shoulders and she kept ahold of her glass just to the side of his head. “Perhaps not. But you don’t know what I’ve seen either. What’s to say your experience is different from mine? I’m a few hundred years older after all.”

Her voice was liquid. His head felt full and foggy. Now he was certain of it. She must have drugged him with whatever that substance was in the first kiss. It made sense: he was a large target and much stronger than her. But whatever it was didn’t seem to be affecting her at all. Or at least not as much as it did him. Blinking a few times, Garrus attempted to belay the feeling. He just had to wait for Saren. Saren would be here soon.

“We’re not the same,” his talons trailed up along her waist to her neck and then along the curve of her cheek. The movement mirrored the locations of his own scars. “Years don’t matter.”

“So strong…” she purred and leaned into his caress. All the while, her free hand began to unfasten the clasps of his shirt. Before long, he was opened to her. The apartment’s cool air chilled his keel and the feeling only intensified as her fingertips traced what scars she could see and reach.

Garrus didn’t stifle the first moan that came to him, nor the second as she kneaded her hand against his vulnerable waist. “Eager,” he breathed.

“I need this,” she told him in response. Her glass came to her lips for a moment, draining it before dropping it altogether. It fell unceremoniously onto the empty cushion beside him.  Both hands now began to push his shirt down his arms, almost tying them up. He had to fight a little to get out of it. By the time he was free, she was tilting his chin up with her fingers. Morinth’s eyes had gone black. “Just look into my eyes and tell me you want me.”

Try as he might, Garrus couldn’t pull away. His talons tightened against the fabric over her hips and he tensed all over but he could not escape. Her gaze… it drew him in helplessly. Something was horribly wrong and he couldn’t even figure out what it was.

“Tell me you’d kill for me,” Morinth whispered, the voice getting inside his head. “Anything I want, you’ll give it to me, won’t you?”

“I… I want you. I’d kill…” he fought the words even as they fell from his maw. “No. I don’t….” He managed to close his eyes for a moment and a wave of dizziness hit him. He had to open them to find his bearings. The world was dimmed around the edges, as though it was fading to black. Everywhere she touched him felt like it was on fire: her hand on his jaw, the other on his shoulder, her legs over his own, and her weight heavy in his lap.

All the while, Morinth was cooing at him. “Shhh, darling. Just relax and hear my words….”

+-+-+-+

Saren watched Garrus ascend the stairs from the dark alleyway. His eyes were narrowed into a glare and his nasal plates shifted against the smell of refuse replacing Garrus’ scent. Omega disgusted him, almost as much as this mission did.

_Bait._

The Justicar was using his partner as _bait._ For her own crazed offspring that she couldn’t bring herself to kill when it was a child. No…. Samara had waited for it to become an adult, one with wants and needs. Morinth was not to blame. The disease did this to her. A disease created by her parents that could have been solved in utero.

Shepard had been asked first before Samara came to Saren. The righteous asari couldn’t even bring herself to ask Garrus directly. She’d subverted him in some ploy to guarantee the answer. Speaking with Shepard, they’d improved upon the plan and made it safer. Garrus had survived years on Omega using stealth, not by walking in plain sight. Saren was… worried.

Stowing his anger for a moment as Garrus reached the top of the stairs, Saren refocused. His gait was better than earlier but still too stiff for a mercenary. Garrus would probably come off as a fresh service dropout with a stiff walk like that. But it would pass.

The first true growl of the night came when the bouncer, a turian male with white skull-shaped paint, blatantly eyed Garrus up and down. As if he was a piece of meat. While that had been the intention of his outfit, Saren wanted to kill the turian all the more because of it.

“Spectre Arterius,” Samara appeared beside him, materializing out of the darkness behind him to cut off his angry sub-vocals. “The others have already entered the club.”

He didn’t pay her any mind until the door opened and then closed behind Garrus. Once he was out of sight, Saren was willing to look at the asari. He brought his hand up to key the comm unit, everyone but Garrus was tuned into the channel. “He’s in.”

He took a step away from Samara and leaned against the wall. His hand rested over the pistol on his hip. He did not wish to talk to the Justicar and she seemed content with silence as well. They waited a long time, perhaps an hour, before the door of the club opened to admit Massani.

The human was speaking loosely with a batarian, laughing with him. There must have been history between the grizzled bounty hunter and the batarian, as the pair stood at the top of the steps, sharing a cigar between them. Ms. Goto was his partner, she’d likely be outside, too, hiding in the shadows somewhere.

Other than the main door, there were two other escape vectors. Jack was covering one with Tali’Zorah. The other, Taylor and Krios watched over. Shepard and Lawson were inside with Garrus. There would be no easy way out for Morinth, not with biotics surrounding her.

It wasn’t long after that when the well-dressed pair exited the club. An asari, dressed in an all black, form-fitted outfit who looked exactly like the Justicar beside him, was pulling Garrus along behind her. The proud smirk on her lips made Saren straighten up and pull his pistol. She looked like a varren who’d caught its first pyjack. He’d put an end to that.

“Not yet,” Samara told him as she stepped closer, placing two fingers against his forearm to lower the weapon. The chill of her gauntlets seeped through his tunic. “The risk of her running is too great.”

Saren snarled quietly, jerking his hand away before raising it to the comm unit again. “Target in motion, main doors.” Quiet acknowledgments followed from all four of the other pairs.

Everyone was meant to stay out of Garrus and Morinth’s sightlines. With the exception of Goto and Krios. The two were well versed in infiltration and he trusted them enough to not be noticed as they traversed the rooftops to follow. Saren himself remained a block behind them, following directions as per the others.

When their target came to a stop to wait for traffic to pass, Saren managed to see his partner again. The asari was all over him, her hands around his neck and her mouth pressed to his. The biotic’s mandibles pulled in tight to his face. His teeth clamped down hard and he could taste blood in his mouth.

It was just a mission, logically Saren knew that. But it didn’t remove the sting of _his_ partner willingly entwining himself in another’s arms.

A pang of not only jealousy but guilt, too, washed over him in the next moment. As Morinth and Garrus parted, a little breathy and smiling at one another without a care in the galaxy…. Saren realized that he could never give Garrus that. If they survived this suicide mission, he could never provide Garrus with a life at all. He would always be in hiding. He’d been labelled a traitor and a defector.

“Arterius, they’re moving.” The Justicar’s voice, rather rudely, dragged him out of his head. “We should follow them.”

Saren grunted and shook his head to banish the thoughts. Later. It would be handled later. The point was moot if he allowed Morinth to succeed now, or if the Collectors managed it when they stormed their base in the coming months.

Another few minutes passed them by when Goto’s voice came over the comm unit. _“They’ve entered an apartment building. Two guards, Blue Suns at the door, a human and a turian.”_

_“Thane, Kasumi,”_ Shepard’s voice followed her’s. _“Get inside. See if you can get eyes back on the target.”_ A brief moment of static passed before the comm cut out.

Now, more than ever, Saren worried for his partner. This was the only moment where Garrus was truly alone. He hated it. His hand tensed around his pistol grip and he had to try hard to keep the growl threatening to leave his chest to himself.

_“They are in the penthouse apartment,”_ Krios told them. _“There are no ventilation shafts large enough to fit through. Ms. Goto is on her way to the roof. I will look for another point of entry.”_

_“Miranda and I will make a distraction at the door,”_ Shepard said as the two humans appeared from an alleyway on the building’s right side. The guards were none the wiser as they casually walked, arm-in-arm toward the door. _“Saren- you and Samara get in there.”_

It was the best suggestion Saren had heard all day. “With pleasure, Shepard.”

The moment the guards were pulled away from the door by Lawson’s biotics, Saren was running. He assumed the Justicar was following, but it didn’t matter to him if she wasn’t. He was going to kill Morinth himself if she wasn’t there to do it herself.

_“I sent the lift back down for you,”_ Tali’Zorah’s accented voice said over the comm. It had been hers and Jack’s job to gain access to the building’s security system once they arrived. Or it had been the quarian’s task and the human had been there more for moral support.

As promised, the elevator doors were open when the pair of biotics entered the lobby. No one else was around as they rushed into the box and waited for it to ascend.

_“I disengaged the safeties,”_ Tali’Zorah told them as the door slid shut. _“Hold on to something.”_

For once in his life, Saren listened to a suggestion without argument. The quarian had been quite serious as he could feel the g-force pulling him down as they rose up and up and up to the top floor. It was nauseating.

_“Second door on the left,”_ Thane told them.

_“You may want to hurry,”_ Kasumi said next. She sounded off like there was something making her uncomfortable. _“Correction, you should hurry.”_

Saren had time to glare at Samara for only a moment before he was sprinting out of the elevator and down two doors to Morinth’s apartment. He skidded to a halt and was readying a biotic burst to blow the door open when he heard a muffled yell.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Blasting his way through the door, he readied his pistol and took stock in the brief seconds of shock that his method of entry provided him. The apartment had a large, open floor plan but he didn’t care about anything right now but the asari sitting on _his_ partner’s lap.

“What? Who are you!” Morinth yelled. Her eyes were all black when she looked over at him and then they quickly changed to blue as she stopped attempting the asari species’ neural link.

Saren swept his arm out, flinging her across the room into the glass windows. A shatter pattern appeared behind her like a web, threatening to crack and allow her to fall all of those storeys down to the ground. It was a shame they didn’t break completely.

“I see that _bitch_ found herself a few helpers,” Morinth grunted. Her gaze had gone beyond Saren to the Justicar who’d entered behind him.

“Morinth!” Samara bellowed. Her own biotics flaring around her as she passed Saren to face off with her offspring.

“Mother!” she screeched back and pushed off the window with a small biotic charge to attack.

It appeared as though she’d forgotten about the two turians entirely. It was her downfall, as it turned out, because the second the pair were locked in a biotic war, Saren ensured Samara would be the winner. He shot Morinth in the gut with his pistol. Twice, for good measure.

“And they call me a monster!” Morinth gasped, holding her bleeding stomach and coughing as she attempted to crawl away like the insect she was.

“You are,” Saren snarled. He held the weapon to her head even as Samara crossed the room to finish the job. “Just not the only one.”

“Find peace in the embrace of the goddess.” The Justicar said as she snapped her daughter’s neck. The crunch was sickening and quick. It was over.

Turning away, Saren finally allowed himself to look at Garrus. He was still on the couch, exactly where he’d been when he and Samara entered. Though now he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in one hand. His shoulders rose and fell in quick bursts. His eyes were closed.

Saren kept his pace slow and small, approaching him with care as he holstered the pistol. “Garrus,” he said once he’d gotten close enough to smell the fear on him. The sour smell was unbecoming of Garrus, one he couldn’t ever remember scenting on him. “Garrus, look at me.”

“Nope, can’t.” His words were flat, unnatural. Something was wrong. If… if he’d been too late… if Morinth had already been inside his head…. He’d kill Samara with his own bare hands -hand- next.

Crouching down in front of Garrus, Saren hummed a comforting noise. He gently reached out and placed his hand down on the sniper’s knee. Garrus inhaled sharply but the tension fell out of his shoulders a little. The hand not covering his face dropped to cover Saren’s. It was freezing. At the least, Saren knew he was wanted.

“What did she do, Garrus?” he encouraged with another warm rumble.

After what felt like an eternity, Garrus did look at him. The problem was immediately on display for him. Garrus’ pupils were blown wide open. His breathing was uneven and came more in pants than long breaths. Without Garrus saying another word, Saren knew he was high.

“What did you take?” Saren demanded.

“Dunno.” He blinked a few times, the light appearing to hurt his eyes. It was no wonder, with how dilated his pupils were. His words slurred together when he continued: “Didn’t see it.”

Disgusted, Saren stifled a growl and pulled away to stand. He hadn’t expected Garrus to be so stupid as to get drugged. “Symptoms.”

“Dizzy, cold.” Garrus reached for him, standing on wobbly legs and using him for balance. “Think she took it too, orally. Chalky.” His tongue slid along the back edge of his teeth. “Wasn’t- mhm- in the drinks.”

“Sit down, Garrus,” Saren ordered, pushing him away gently. But Garrus wasn’t having it, he held on and it made them both stumble. “Let go,” he growled.

Garrus’ mandibles pulled into his face, as his head tilted to the side the fringe clips jingled. “But yer warm,” he complained as he pulled them closer together and let out a wanting purr, asking for permission to stay. “S’better here.”

Sighing, Saren allowed himself to be wrapped in the younger turian’s arms. There was definitely something wrong with him. But if his words rang true, then there weren’t too many possibilities of what the drug had been. To test the most likely theory, he trailed his talons up Garrus’ spine carefully and left his warm palm against the back of his neck.

As expected, Garrus moaned and pushed in tighter. His nose pressed into Saren’s neck and his hands caught in the fabric of his tunic. “Feels good…” Garrus breathed against his hide. “More? Please.”

The sound of footsteps brought Saren’s attention to the open door, Shepard and Lawson had arrived. Before he could reply to Garrus or address them, a blur moved along the edge of his vision. He pulled Garrus into his chest tighter and turned him away from it, only to see the human thief appear out of thin air. The growl building in his chest stopped.

She was standing near a table and when her gloved hand raised up, she was holding a tiny pill between her fingertips. “Hallex,” she announced, her smirk could be seen from under her hood. “Or that’s what the bottle says, anyway.”

Saren hummed a note of agreement, glancing down at the turian attached to his chest before twisting to look back at Shepard. His expression left no room for misinterpretation. He didn’t have words strong enough to express his anger, so he let a glare suffice.

“Garrus, are you all right?” Shepard asked.

His partner shook his head and grabbed on tighter to Saren’s shirt. The noise he made was almost a whine as he whispered loud enough for only Saren to hear. “Make them leave.”

Saren’s mandibles shifted as he took his eyes off Shepard to look back at Garrus. He was acting like a scared fledgling. It wasn’t how he imagined his partner and he didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Get a skycar,” Saren snapped at the Spectre and the rest.

While the others filed out, Shepard remained behind. His suit was bloodied with cobalt spatter. He must’ve taken the turian guard out at close range. He approached slowly, his hands in front of him to placate the pair. “What happened, Saren?”

“Morinth drugged him,” he replied shortly, somehow managing to keep his snarl in check. “I told you the plan was reckless. Now I’ll be cleaning up your mess.”

“Seriously, make him go…” Garrus said into his neck. His breathing had begun to speed up, though Saren was a little surprised as he felt Garrus’ hips grind forward. He must have imagined it. That was the only explanation.

“Leave, Shepard,” Saren said.

But the Spectre didn’t want to listen now either. He remained in place. “I’m not going anywhere. Garr-”

The human was cut off by a loud moan, Garrus’ loud moan to be precise. Saren could feel the other turian’s erection pressed against his leg. He hadn’t imagined the movement of his hips after all. The Hallex was to blame, of course. It was a party drug for a reason. It enhanced the user’s pleasure sensors while turning off their inhibitions. Mixed with alcohol, it was a potent combination.

“Uh…” Shepard stumbled back a step, his gaze moving from Garrus up to meet the older turian’s eyes instead.

“Hallex, Shepard,” Saren snarled. “What do you expect?”

“I’m… I’m just going to go get that skycar, now. Yep.”

By the time the door closed behind Shepard, Garrus was shaking in his arms. They were alone with the exception of the corpse that was still cooling on the floor behind them.

“Fuck….” Garrus whispered. “Need you, Saren. Please.”

Again, Saren sighed. This time it was for two very distinct reasons. One, how high Garrus was, and two how unseemly it would be to fuck in the dead asari’s apartment. At the very least, Garrus would have to wait until they returned to the _Normandy._ It was not going to prove to be an easy trip for either of them, he expected.

And was quickly proven correct as pulling Garrus off of himself to get his shirt back on was a challenge in itself, only made worse by only having one arm. With some creative use of biotics and a little force, Garrus was dressed and they were on their way. Garrus’ arm was thrown over his shoulders and the temptation to simply carry him became stronger the closer they made it to the elevator.

“You’re acting like a fledgling on his first shore leave,” Saren admonished after thwarting the other turian’s third attempt to get into his pants. It was distracting. But at least he had a moment’s rest while the lift slowly descended to the main level.

“Come on, Saren... is that a pistol or are you just happy to see me?”

Growling he pinned Garrus’ wrists to the wall above his head. “You know very well it’s a pistol, Garrus. Focus for a few minutes more.”

“Mhm. It’s hard… ha- hard.” The laugh cut off for him to apologize. “Sorry. It’s getting worse. You feel good. I want you. I can’t focus for shit.”

“Try.”

Saren waited for Garrus to nod before he let go. It was going to be a long night.

+-+-+-+

The trip back to the _Normandy_ was fairly uneventful. Shepard was the only squad member still in sight. The others must have been sent along ahead. The Spectre took the driver’s seat and gave him a weird look when he tossed Garrus into the back and joined him in the front seat.

“What?” Saren snapped.

Shepard jerked away and put his attention on the skycar controls. “Nothing.”

The rest of the ride was taken in relative silence. It was obvious to Saren that his partner was physically uncomfortable in the back seat. He shifted around, his talons clenched and released around the seat and more than once Garrus had to stifle his subvocals before they got loud enough for Shepard to hear. But he held himself together well enough. When they arrived at the docks, the three exited the car.

The first time Garrus stumbled, Saren gave up allowing him to walk on his own. With only one arm, it was a bit difficult to maneuver a hundred kilograms of high turian. But he managed to get Garrus slung over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Comfortable, Garrus?” Shepard asked him as he followed behind Saren toward the ship.

“Fine,” Garrus mumbled in reply, but his purr told Saren he was more than fine. He was enjoying being carried. The older turian had to suppress a sigh and he hoisted Garrus a little higher on his shoulder, jostling him out of the warm purring mess he was quickly becoming.

Inside the ship, they headed straight for the medical bay where Chakwas waited for them. Saren dropped his partner rather unceremoniously on one of the medical beds and turned to the doctor. “He’s out of his mind on Hallex.”

“Sar-” Garrus began to whine.

“No.” The biotic cut him off and turned to the doctor. “Fix him”

Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the mess hall. Shepard was standing in the galley, leaning against the island counter waiting for him and watching through the viewports. Saren stowed his growl and joined him. They watched as Chakwas ran a few scans and then performed a quick blood test. Garrus was compliant and most of the time he was watching the pair through the glass.

“Why are you still here, Shepard?” Saren asked after he was sick of the silence. The hum of the drive core below them was incessant and he needed something to break the monotony.

“Same as you,” Shepard told him as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded toward the bank of windows. “I’m worried about Garrus.”

Saren turned his head to look at him. “Worried about him or worried about leaving him with me?”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t-” Saren interrupted, his subvocals rumbling a warning as he turned his attention onto the Spectre, “-lie. To me.” While continuing to hold Shepard’s gaze, he spoke to the AI. “EDI, engage medical bay privacy screens.”

_“Understood, Arterius.”_ The windows went black and the AI rushed to leave them alone. Her response almost sentient. _“Logging you out.”_

The human looked away from the blanked out windows and pushed himself off the countertop to face Saren head-on. “Do I need to be worried?”

“You still think I’d take advantage of him?” He scoffed, allowing his growl to return. He kept his arm at his side, letting his hand wrap into a fist. “Perhaps if you hadn’t been there I’d have done it right next to that abomination’s corpse. Just to assert my dominance. Is that what you’re thinking, Shepard? That I’m a monster like her?”

“You were one, Saren.” Shepard cruelly reminded him. “How am I supposed to separate that?”

“Against my _will!”_ he snarled and slammed his fist against the counter, an unintended shockwave sent someone’s abandoned glass of water shattering against a wall. It wasn’t often that the biotic allowed his anger to get the better of him, but now with Garrus in the medical bay… he couldn’t stop himself. “You always neglect that fact, Shepard.”

The human didn’t manage to find words fast enough for Saren’s taste, so he continued. “I don’t care if you don’t trust me. The only person you need to trust is Garrus. Your lack of faith in your supposed ‘best friend’ is insulting. Do you think he’d choose to be with me if I was hurting him? Do you believe he is so weak minded?”

Shepard just stared at him blankly for a moment. He blinked a few times and was about to say something when the medical bay door opened and Chakwas stepped out. She looked between them, her mouth turning down at the corners and her brow drawing tight.

“Go ahead, Karin,” Shepard said.

“You were right, Arterius. It was Hallex. A rather large dose to be perfectly honest and Garrus was a first time user. He’s going to feel terrible in the morning, mostly from dehydration but I’ve started him on an IV and given him a sedative. It should help,” she told them, her gaze travelling from Shepard back to Saren after a moment. “It should help him sleep if you’d like to take him to your quarters?”

Saren didn’t waste time looking to Shepard. If the human wanted to disagree he could say so out loud. “Anything else to expect?” he asked.

The doctor shook her head and stepped out of the way to admit him. Garrus was sound asleep on one of the beds, his head lolled to the side in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable.

“Just some mild nausea. By the time he wakes up, he’ll be sober. Less… well...” she stopped. The sentence didn’t need to be finished.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Saren told her honestly as he ran his talons across the white line of Garrus’ camouflaged markings. He used his biotics to lift him this time, gently as to not wake him, and he carried Garrus home.

Shepard did nothing to stop him. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  Saren chose that moment to interject. “Tela Vasir. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.”
> 
> She spun on her heel, her hand reaching for her gun. “Arterius?” The surprise was real, her blue eyes had gone wide and her mouth fell open. While her hand remained on the pistol grip, she did not draw yet. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
> 
> “Your intel is incorrect,” Saren said, his subvocals were flat and he didn’t remove his gaze from the Spectre even as he let an insult fall into the space between them. “As usual.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Written By Wolves - Not Afraid To Die**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2dX7lImJYo)

9 - Faults and Fortitude

\- - -

Saren awoke to a gentle ping from his omnitool. He opened his eyes to the dim room and blinked a few times to adjust his vision to the red lighting from Omega’s docks that streamed in through the viewport in his quarters. Tilting his arm toward himself made the haptic interface appear and a message flitted across his screen. It was the AI.

//

_ [From: EDI - Location: Normandy SR-2] _

_ [To: Ghost702 - Location: Normandy SR-2] _

_ [Subject: Access Request] _

_ Arterius, Ms. Tali’Zorah is at the door to your quarters. She has requested access to speak with Officer Vakarian. _

_ [End Message Text] _

//

The stolid male raised a brow-plate and closed his omnitool out. He looked down at the turian in question. Garrus’ weight remained solidly against his chest, still well and dead to the world. Whatever sedative the doctor had given him must have been quite strong. Regardless, Saren looked up at the ceiling and spoke to the AI directly. He doubted her voice would wake Garrus.

“EDI, grant access to Tali’Zorah.”

_ “Understood, Arterius.” _

A moment later the doors slid open to reveal a backlit quarian. Hesitantly, she stepped inside and her hands came up in front of her for her to fidget with. Initially, she was looking out the viewport like most people did when they first entered his space. A small  _ ahem _ had her spinning to find where the sound had come from. Her bright purple eyes landed on him and his charge and she jumped back a pace.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, obviously not expecting what she saw. Which, to be honest, was actually a fairly regular sight inside these four walls. Garrus often slept sprawled across his bare chest for warmth and comfort. The purr that accompanied his sleep was loud enough to be heard across the room and at a pitch that other species could hear.

“As you can see, Garrus is indisposed at the moment,” Saren began quietly. He ran his hand along the length of his partner’s fringe, the motion was more of a reflex than an actual necessity - Hallex made turians sleep like the dead - but the motion did usually help him stay asleep. “Was there something you needed?

The quarian’s gaze was fixed onto his talons as she watched him comfort Garrus. Saren would almost describe her body language as fascinated. She stopped fidgeting and tilted her helmet to the side quizzically.

“Well?” he prompted. His voice was stern but not unkind. Despite their rocky beginnings while he’d been under  _ Sovereign’s _ control, their relationship had been improving ever since that first meal when she’d arrived on the ship.

“Ah, yes, actually…” Tali’Zorah tore her focus away from his hand to look at his face. “The thanix cannon install is supposed to start today. Shepard wanted to know if we should do the shielding first instead?”

Saren briefly looked at Garrus before flicking his mandible in agreement. “Perhaps that would be best.” The sleeping turian barely let anyone else look at the current gun and he’d likely be possessive of the new one as well.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked, beginning to fidget again.

Carefully, Saren began to extricate himself from his partner’s grasp. A pillow took his place for Garrus to cling onto and he quickly buried his nose into the fabric. The blankets slipped down around his waist. “He will be,” Saren said as he managed to get his feet on the floor and he stood up, planning to find his armour.

A soft gasp prompted him to look over at the quarian. The noise sounded almost like a  _ meep.  _ She had frozen like a stone. He looked from her down at himself and raised a brow-plate. Other than his missing arm and pale plates, he looked like a normal turian. Perhaps she’d never seen one.

He ignored her demeanour and continued on as if nothing was off. “As Garrus will be unavailable for another few hours, would you perhaps be willing to accompany me to the prosthetic specialist? Garrus has spoken highly of your technical skills.”

“I uh…” Tali turned to face the viewport, blinking profusely behind her visor. “Yes? I… um could do that.”

Saren thrummed a note of gratitude and was about to start getting into his undersuit when he heard a familiar whistle from the open doors.

“Nice,” Jack said, heedless of the turian sleeping behind him.

Saren shot her a glare, motioning his hand in the Alliance symbol for silence as he’d seen Shepard do on a few occasions. “Quiet.”

“Double nice,” she said only slightly quieter than the first time as she looked at Garrus’ nude and sleeping form. The human stepped up behind the quarian and draped an arm over her shoulders. “Weren’t going to share were you, Buckethead?”

Another  _ meep _ noise left Tali’Zorah and Jack chuckled. Saren ignored them both and dressed. Once he was suited up, he briefly brushed his hand across Garrus’ crest and fixed the blankets before meeting them at the door. He looked to the woman. “Jack, stay with Garrus.”

“Yeah, alright.” He had expected snark and received none. Jack headed for the couch and kicked off her boots before sitting down and pulling out her omnitool. “I’ll message when he’s up.”

Without further comment, Saren turned on his heel and left, Tali’Zorah following closely behind. It wasn’t until they reached the elevator and the door closed that she spoke.

“You’re worried,” she said.

“He is….” Saren paused a moment, trying to figure out the correct ending. “Unwell.”

Tali shook her head, wringing her hands for only a brief moment before dropping them to her sides. “Not just about Garrus.” He looked down to find her watching his face. “It’s about Shepard. About him not trusting you. He… came to talk to me last night.”

Saren waited patiently for her to continue, his face impassive.

“Garrus is different with you,” she continued. “Jack told me what happened after you found him. You’re... not what I expected. I hope that Shepard learns to see that, too.”

The elevator halted on the CIC deck and Tali’Zorah wasted no time exiting. For a moment, Saren considered what she said and then began to follow. At the least, he had two allies on this ship outside of Garrus. That thought helped to warm him as they stepped off the  _ Normandy _ and headed back into the bowels of Omega.

+-+-+-+

Registering pain upon waking was unfortunately nothing new to Garrus. Although, that pain was typically associated with some sort of injury. It had been a damn long time since he’d woken up feeling like he’d been run over by a krogan.

In fact… it might’ve been that night Garm  _ had _ actually charged him on the second anniversary of Saren and Shepard’s death. It had been the day in between their death dates and he’d been out hunting. Catching Garm alone that night had nearly been the death of him. In his drugged up haze afterward he’d thought it was a fitting time to die. But he’d escaped the vorcha and the krogan that chased him across the station.

Once he was back at base, safe, Garrus had hopped himself so high on painkillers to numb himself out he couldn’t remember his name let alone feel his cracked ribs and plates. He’d been unconscious for nearly two days before he finally woke up to Butler shaking him.

He groaned, right now he felt just as bad as that.

“Finally awake over there?” said a voice from the other end of the room. It had been quiet but that didn’t matter. He still heard it loud and clear. 

Garrus groaned again, sinking deeper into the sheets. A small pinch in his arm made him wince. He ran his talons over the crook of his opposing elbow and found that an IV line had been attached and taped down.

The feminine voice scoffed. “Yep. You are.” He heard some shuffling as she approached. “Doc stopped by, said these should help.”

Opening one eye and pushing the blankets off his face, he saw Jack offering him a medicine bottle lid with two pills in it and a mug. Her hands were hazy, the colourful tattoos blurred together. Scenting the air he could tell Saren had been gone for a while. The smell of his own sweat was thick and mildly sickly. 

“Thanks.” He pushed himself up a little higher in the bed, careful of his arm, and then took the offerings. It was a lukewarm  _ tisane  _ in the mug, the kind Saren usually made himself before bed.

“You look like shit, Vakarian,” Jack told him as she took the lid back. He kept the mug, holding it in his hands to warm them up and sipping the liquid slowly. His throat was parched.

“Feel like it.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I’m guessing you’ve never tried Hallex?”

“Hallex?” he blinked. The night was… foggy.

“Mhm. Stuff fucked you up pretty good,” Jack said as she backed up enough to lean against the desk. Her arms crossed over her mostly bare chest. “You took enough to knock yourself right out of commission. Saren had to carry you.”

He blinked again, his mandibles falling loose. “Carry me?”

“Fireman style,” she mimed throwing a person over her shoulder, still grinning even as she dropped her arms to shrug. “You got him all worried. He didn’t even want to leave you alone while he went to get his new arm. Asked me to fucking babysit you.”

Sighing, Garrus dropped his face into his hand, his neck no doubt flushing blue in embarrassment. At least Saren hadn’t asked Shepard. That would have been worse.

“Did he go alone?”

“Naw,” Jack raised a hand to rub the back of her neck. “Since you were out of commission, he took Tali. Was going to get her to look at the specs, I think.”

He sighed and took another sip. At least the  _ tisane  _ was helping his headache a little. Trying to remember what happened last night, however, wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Shepard won’t let anyone on Omega alone: ‘buddy-system’.” She made quotations with her fingers and rolled her eyes. “Not like any of us actually need it.”

“It’s not the worst idea,” Garrus rumbled around the rim. It was nearly empty now and he was starting to get sleepy again. His arms felt weighted by his loosened muscles.

Jack bit her bottom lip. “You know…” she stopped, her mouth quirking to the side for a moment before she began anew. “Saren was on the warpath yesterday. I was with him when we escaped Purgatory and even then he wasn’t so... vicious? I guess. I’ve never seen him like that. It was weird. He cares about you.”

Garrus brought the drink away from his maw and looked at the floor beside her. He was certain his throat had gone blue again. “I know.”

She approached the bed and reached out to take the mug. Garrus reluctantly gave it back to her. “Pretty sure it started before you kissed Morinth… but well... “ she shrugged. “That didn’t help.”

Garrus’ head was starting to feel heavy again and he was having trouble staying awake. “Kiss… wait. Ugh.” He rubbed his crest and slowly lowered himself back down to the nest. “That’s when she dosed me. There was something in my mouth.”

She snickered. “I’ll bet.”

“No,” he snarled weakly. “A pill or something.”

“Right,” she exaggerated the word as though she didn’t believe him. “Get some sleep, birdy. Your boyfriend will be back soon.”

Typically, Garrus would have at least growled at her but sleep was too quick in taking him. Whatever was in the meds Chakwas brought was enough to knock him right out. Jack walking out of his sightline was the last thing he remembered. That… and her quiet chuckle.

Time passed in a blur. In the moments where Garrus wasn’t fully asleep, he knew movement occurred around him but who it was or what happened didn’t register. A pinch at his elbow would have brought him out of his doze if a comforting rumble hadn’t soothed him back to unconsciousness.

The second time Garrus actually woke up, he was back in Saren’s arms. Arms, plural, he noted as he shifted against the warm expanse of plate under his cheek. Saren said nothing, only purred to encourage him back to sleep as he gently caressed his fringe.

“You’re back,” Garrus said, rumbling his gratitude and nosing in deeper against Saren’s chest. His voice was thick from being asleep too long. His tongue felt heavy and his mouth dry. But it was better than earlier. He could actually make out clear shapes this time and the headache was just a footnote rather than nauseating pain.

“I am.”

Garrus reached up, stifling a groan at his stiff muscles, and ran his talons across the new prosthetic. It felt more like a real arm, with artificial plates and hide. Though it was cooler than the rest of him, it was still warmer than the metal one had been before it. Opening his eyes, Garrus noted it was the same pale colour as the rest of Saren. It blended in. Saren allowed him to explore the new appendage for a few minutes, saying nothing as Garrus propped himself up a bit higher on his elbow to get a better look.

When Garrus finished his exploration, his gaze slid up to find Saren’s watching him intently.

“Heard I was a handful.” Garrus tilted his head back slightly in a surrendering gesture to bare his throat to his partner in apology. His regretful note was quickly silenced as Saren pushed him onto his back.

“Do not apologize.” Saren carefully took his face into his new hand and tilted his chin up so that Garrus was looking at him. “The mission was ill-advised.”

Garrus’ hands found their way to Saren’s chest, his palms splayed across the warm hide. “Still… I let myself get caught up. Trusted that everything would be fine and it wasn’t. I’m sor-” 

He was cut off mid-sentence when Saren’s hand slid up from his jaw to close his mouth. Their eyes connected again and while his own were a bit wide with surprise, he found Saren’s contemplative and intent.

“I want you to trust me, Garrus. I may not deserve it, but that is what I want.” He released Garrus’ mouth and trailed his talons across the first scar on his faceplates, the graze from Saren’s attempted suicide of the Citadel, and then across the bandaged side of Garrus' face.

“I do,” Garrus whispered, nuzzling into the gentle hand caressing him.

Saren sighed and then dropped his crest to Garrus’. His voice was flat as he said: “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”

Garrus sighed, dragging one of his own hands up to wrap around the back of Saren’s neck. His grip was firm but gentle enough for Saren to escape if he wanted to.

“You say that like I have a choice,” his mandible moved into a lazy smile. “I love you.”

Saren merely snorted. The air leaving his nose blew gently across Garrus’ mouth plates. 

“It’s true,” the sniper said, reinforcing his admission. 

The biotic pulled away enough for them to look at one another. His brow-plate was raised in skepticism. “Perhaps you need more rest.”

“Only if you’re staying.”

Saren dropped back to the nest beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him into his chest. Garrus relaxed into the warmth of his partner’s arms and entwined his talons within Saren’s own. Sleep came quickly and just as he went under he heard Saren say: “I’ll be here.” And it was enough to take him through till morning. 

+-+-+-+

With the upgrades finished, the  _ Normandy _ was finally allowed to leave Omega.

Their first stop ended up being the Migrant Fleet where Tali’Zorah had been accused of treason. When Shepard had caught wind of her plight, they had rushed straight away to handle the mess. He appeared to always have time for the quarian, even if it meant pushing the needs of others further down his list. Once Tali’Zorah was cleared of all charges, they were en route to Pragia.

The jungle planet had been Jack’s childhood torture facility.

Both Saren and Garrus had accompanied her to the planet’s surface, leaving Shepard behind on the ship at Jack’s request. They fought through mercenaries and local fauna alike to get to the cage they’d kept her in. Logs from the derelict facility had proven the terrorist cell had gone rogue from its head - a fairly normal situation for Cerberus, it appeared.

Regardless of their intent, Cerberus had broken hundreds of human children. They were worse than the Cabals. Saren could remember the tests he’d undergone as a fledgling with perfect clarity. His own scars may have been gone but that didn’t change what they’d done to him. Jack wore her injuries as part of her body art. The ink was as much her story as the scars were.

Saren could sympathize with her rage.

Leaving the memories behind in a physical way and watching her depress the trigger for the bomb had been cathartic for him too. Almost as much as it had been for her.

As they sat beside one another in the back of the shuttle, Garrus across from them, he watched her face. A dampness rested under her eyes that he couldn’t ever remember seeing there before. Saren wrote it off as residual moisture from the rain. Or he did until a single tear rolled down her cheek.

It was brushed away before it reached her chin.

Neither Saren nor Garrus said a word in reference to it. They let the silence hang in the air between them until the shuttle touched down in the  _ Normandy’s _ docking bay. Garrus was first on his feet to open the door, leaving Saren sitting for a moment longer beside Jack.

“Thanks,” she said without looking at him.

Saren merely grunted an acknowledgment and rose to his feet.

“Saren?” Jack asked, grabbing his attention before he could leave. He turned back around to face her, his crest tilting slightly to the side. 

“Yes?”

Without warning, she stepped forward and…  _ hugged  _ him. Her arms wrapped around his waist with more strength than he’d of expected out of the waif-like human. She let go a moment later and stepped away. “I mean it,” she said. “Thank you.”

Saren blinked a few times and he could have sworn he heard Garrus snicker behind him. “You are welcome, Jack.”

Her mouth thinned into a firm line and she nodded before bypassing him and exiting the shuttle. She shoved Garrus’ arm as she passed him. “You didn’t see shit, got that?”

The biotic turian turned around just in time to see Garrus’ hands raised in surrender and his head tilted away from her playfully. “Not a thing.”

+-+-+-+

After Pragia, they arrived on Illium for a bout of shore leave.

In their quarters, Saren finished sliding a warm, dark cloak over his shoulders. The jet-black fabric contrasted perfectly with his light plates and the silver hem of his suit. His eyes drifted over to watch Garrus pulling on the final piece of his own outfit, a leather jacket made from animal hide that had been dyed in his favourite colour -cobalt blue. White, red and black panels gave it some interest and ensured the jacket stood out against black pants and boots. 

It suited him, and brought out a youthfulness to his plates that had been missing for some time, wiped clean under the strain of Archangel. Saren’s gaze softened. He should look his age once in a while. The scars and time on Omega always made him seem much older than his years. Too old in fact. He wasn’t even thirty.

A moment before Garrus could catch him watching, Saren looked away. His focus went to the pistol on his desk and he holstered it against his hip. While they weren’t expecting trouble, it was best to be prepared.

He and Garrus were about to leave the  _ Normandy _ for an evening on their own. Saren had picked a restaurant he’d favoured a lifetime ago. It was the place he used to meet Avitus between missions to exchange intel. Some small part of him remained hopeful they’d run into him. As of yet, his first student hadn’t replied to any of his messages. It was as though he too had dropped into hiding. 

A part of Saren was getting concerned enough that, if he didn’t hear back soon, he’d reach out to Avitus’ partner, Lieutenant Macen Barro of the Hierarchy’s Blackwatch. Avitus had never explicitly told him they were bonded but he wasn’t exactly adept at hiding things from his mentor. Avitus was a poor liar for a Spectre, preferring subversion to outright lies. 

Garrus’ omnitool pinged, bringing Saren out of his head.

“Shepard,” his partner greeted upon activating the comm line.

It was on speaker, so Saren heard Shepard when he replied:  _ “I need you to meet me at Liara’s apartment.” _ His voice was abnormal, almost like he was out of breath.

Garrus picked up on it as well. His attention shifted from the tool up to Saren and then back down. “Yeah, alright. Send me the coordinates. Are you okay?”

_ “I’m fine,” _ Shepard replied.  _ “Just be quick….” _

“Expecting trouble, Shepard?” Garrus’ voice warbbled and his eyes moved from his omnitool to the storage unit he left his gear in.

_ “Not exactly.” _ A moment of quiet passed before the human added:  _ “You should be able to get back to shore leave when we’re done.” _ in a wry tone.

“Right....” Garrus exaggerated the word and huffed.

The microphone clicked off and Garrus looked up from the ‘tool with a disappointed tilt to his good mandible. He reached into his own gear and pulled out his rifle along with the strap to keep it in place on his back without his armour’s maglocks. Once it was settled, he attached his pistol to his belt and grabbed a couple of proximity mines and some medigel to stuff into his pockets.

“Shepard isn’t expecting trouble, yet you are?” Saren tilted his head to the side as he watched his partner gear up.

“With Shepard? Anything is possible,” he said as he headed for the door. “Hopefully I won’t be too long.”

“You’re not going to escape that easily, Vakarian.” Saren wrapped himself around Garrus’ back, nipping at the side of his throat with an affectionate rumble. “I’ll join you.”

Garrus tilted his head away, giving him space and purred. “You’re sure?”

“I won’t let Shepard monopolize more of your time than he does already,” Saren bit a touch harder against the hide just above his collar, intentionally leaving a small mark. “You’re mine.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?” he stifled a moan, reaching behind himself to rub Saren’s thigh.

The biotic pulled away enough that Garrus turned to look at him. There was a spark of amusement waiting for him and Saren rolled his eyes deliberately, making him laugh. A small shove got him moving and soon they were out into the brisk air for an evening on Illium. Even if it did include a detour.

+-+-+-+

Flashing lights and sirens were the furthest thing from what Saren had expected after Garrus received the call from Shepard. Police officers were swarming the area outside the address Shepard provided them with. A brief moment was spent regretting not donning armour before they headed out.

Looking from the scene to Garrus, he noticed a shift. Suddenly, Saren was looking at the C-Sec Detective he’d thought was gone forever. Garrus’ expression was different, analytical. Not unlike when he was sighting down his rifle. He was out of the vehicle first and Saren stepped out a moment later to wait with the skycar until he was needed.

Garrus approached the holographic security line and walked straight through. An asari officer stepped up to him, her arms held out to stop Garrus from continuing. “This area is sealed off. Please step back, sir.”

“Why?” he asked, his mandible flicking out in impatience. Saren supposed that Garrus was going to figure out as much information as he could before invoking Shepard’s name. It was a sound strategy.

But it didn’t matter much because, before the officer could reply, another asari began speaking. Saren’s spine snapped tight. He recognized that voice in an instant and didn’t stop the growl that fell into the cool night air around him.

The speaker approached from the left, adorned in Spectre grade and marked armour, out the doors of T’Soni’s apartment building. “Someone tried to kill your friend, Vakarian,” she said.

It was one Saren hadn’t heard in years. Of all the ghosts from his past, hers was one he could have gone the rest of his life without meeting. Tela Vasir, his own Spectre mentor. While he was the longest standing turian Spectre she was nearing the longest-serving asari at well over one hundred years.

“Thank you, Officer,” she continued, bypassing the holographic crime scene tape as Garrus had a moment before. She had yet to look at Saren. A single turian was not her concern. “Your people are dismissed.”

“I already told you, you can’t do that!” the Officer insisted, arms crossing over their chest. She levelled a glare first at Vasir and then shifted it over to Garrus. At the least, Vasir looked like she had the right to intrude. Illium was an asari world and she wore armour. Garrus in plain clothes with a rifle strapped to his back, no matter how menacing, was unwelcome.

“Already done,” Vasir pressed a few keys on her omnitool, silencing the Officer with paperwork. From personal experience, Saren knew that  _ Spectre authority _ opened a lot of doors on Illium. “I already saw Shepard,” she continued her leer travelling from Garrus’ boots to his crest. It was appraising, she was testing him.

“Really?” Garrus kept both his tone and face impassive, though his subvocals pitched with skepticism. 

Saren chose that moment to interject. “Tela Vasir. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.”

She spun on her heel, her hand reaching for her gun. “Arterius?” The surprise was real, her blue eyes had gone wide and her mouth fell open. While her hand remained on the pistol grip, she did not draw yet. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Your intel is incorrect,” Saren said, his subvocals were flat and he didn’t remove his gaze from the Spectre even as he let an insult fall into the space between them. “As usual.”

Vasir scoffed, a smile spreading her lips. “And you haven’t changed.” Her arms went wide as she closed the distance and clasped his shoulder while pressing a kiss to his maxilla. He made a disgusted noise and didn’t raise his arms to touch her in return. Instead, Saren pulled away and growled in annoyance.

“Neither have you.”

“That’s no way to greet me, Saren,” she scolded with a wag of her finger, almost like one would an errant child. The magenta paint on her right brow shifted as she stepped back and looked over Garrus before turning back toward Saren. “You’re here for Shepard, I presume?”

Garrus hadn’t taken his attention off the asari and Saren noted his hand was placed comfortably on his hip crest, just above his pistol. The holster was undone. He didn’t trust Vasir at face value, which was for the best. He’d known the asari for over twenty years and he still didn’t trust her.

“And if we are?” Garrus asked.

“Then I’ll take you to him myself,” Vasir replied and began heading for the entryway, fully expecting them both to follow. Saren inclined his crest after her, a silent ‘after you’ to his partner. “The Commander’s already inside T’Soni’s apartment. I said I’d deal with security and fetch you.”

They entered the elevator and as it rose to the penthouse suite, she leaned against the mirrored wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “I’d heard Shepard was reinstated. Everyone did. You-” she looked pointedly at Saren, “-not so much. Care to fill me in?”

Saren’s mandibles fluttered but he said nothing.

She sighed. “Still not a talker, I see.” Vasir looked to Garrus, instead, appraising him. “And you?” she dropped her hands, stepping closer to his partner. “Are you any more of a talker than Saren?”

Garrus growled, following Saren’s lead and held his silence as well. 

Vasir barked a laugh and backed off a pace. Her gaze flitted between the two of them and she quickly came to a few conclusions without needing to ask. It was apparent they were both dressed for an evening out and they’d arrived together when Shepard had only called for Vakarian. Saren had also left a fresh mark above Garrus’ collar that could have only come from a turian’s teeth.

If Vasir hadn’t considered the possibility they were together, Saren would have been concerned about her drop in mental acuity. Her expression told him that she knew. He remembered her tells vividly.

“You’re looking better, more…” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side while her eyes roved his figure unabashedly. “-turian than last time I saw you. I’d forgotten what colour your eyes were.”

Saren clenched his jaw as he glared. “You were the last one to see them,” he reminded her, his voice going a touch bitter with the memory.

In his periphery, he noticed Garrus shift. His partner was uncomfortable with that knowledge and with the relationship that he didn’t understand. Saren dropped a soothing note into his voice in a register Vasir wouldn’t be able to hear. He could explain later.

“Why are you here, Vasir?” Saren asked, steering the conversation away from the personal and back to professional.

“Oh, you know,” she flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I was in the area.”

Saren scraped his tongue along the backside of his teeth but he allowed her to keep the story to herself for now. “What did Shepard tell you?”

“Something about T’Soni having a lead on the Shadow Broker,” she explained. “He’s a dangerous enemy to have. She was lucky to make it out alive.”

“Is T’Soni still here?” Saren asked.

Vasir shook her head. “No. The uniforms downstairs had security footage of her leaving the building a half-hour ago. The shots came about four minutes before that.”

Garrus hummed in consideration. “Whatever she was doing, it was important.” His crest tilted to the side. “You said shots. From where?”

“A building across the street. It was surgical, professional. Whoever it was wasn’t expecting kinetic barriers over the windows. Clever girl. Paranoid, but clever.”

“How do you know she got away?” Saren inquired as the lift came to a stop.

“No body. No blood.” The elevator doors began to open. “See for yourselves.” Vasir led them out and down the hallway.

When they entered the apartment, Shepard was waiting for them.

+-+-+-+

With Garrus’ assistance, searching the apartment did not take long. Not only did he know the Doctor well but his C-Sec experience was a valuable asset in narrowing down the possibilities. With a data disk, they determined T’Soni was on her way to the Dracon Trade Centre.

Now, they were sitting in Vasir’s skycar. Shepard and Garrus were in the back while he volunteered to sit beside his old mentor. While she piloted, he let his attention wander out the window to watch the buildings fly by. As he remembered, Vasir drove fast.

“Hey, Shepard?” the asari began, glancing toward the back of the vehicle before looking out the windshield again. “Want to explain why you have a convicted traitor on your squad? I’ve got a feeling the Council’s not going to like that.”

Saren glanced up in the rearview mirror to catch Shepard’s eye, uncertain if he should cut in before the human said something stupid. 

But Shepard surprised him by answering her question with one of his own. “You think they don’t know?”

She laughed. “Oh, I’d have been informed. He’s one of my protégés. They aren’t in the habit of keeping mentors in the dark.”

Garrus made a surprised chirp and Shepard scoffed: “Really?”

“Oh yes. My first turian in fact,” she looked over at him with a fond smile that was as plastic as the door handles in the skycar. Saren remembered how she treated him, the time she’d nearly starved him and when he’d nearly been frozen to death. “It was fun, wasn’t it Saren?”

He growled but his focus remained intent on the skyline.

“You were what? Twenty?”

“Approximately,” he buzzed, annoyed she was telling Shepard any of this, let alone Garrus. He wanted to share more of himself with his partner but they just hadn’t had the time. While he knew everything about Garrus from the files he’d read, Saren hadn’t even told him he had a brother or that he grew up on Palaven.

“So…” she prompted again. “The Council knows?”

Saren could hear Shepard’s teeth grind. “They’ve given me the freedom to operate as I see fit to wipe out the Collectors. Saren’s release is part of that agreement.”

It wasn’t quite a lie but it was enough to make Vasir drop the subject. Time was short and, regardless, they had arrived.

“The Baria Frontiers offices are located on the third floor,” Vasir said as she brought the car down. Her hands moved across the controls effortlessly and spooled the engine down as they touched the landing pad.

They exited and Garrus already had his omnitool out, scanning the frequencies. “I don’t hear-”

An explosion cut him off. Multiple floors of the building were on fire and smoke billowed out of the sides. Shepard all but leapt over the skycar. “Liara’s in there!” he shouted.

“I’ll grab the skycar and seal off the building from the top!” Vasir said, getting back into the vehicle and starting it up. 

Before she could leave, Shepard looked to him. “Saren, go with her. Garrus and I will start down here and work our way up.” 

No one argued. Although as Saren got into the vehicle again he noticed Vasir’s expression had shifted to annoyance. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Before the door was fully shut, she had the vehicle rising above the main level to the top of the building. Once she’d settled the car, they got out and drew their weapons. Saren brought up a barrier around himself, too. He was glad that Shepard had told him to go with Vasir, he didn’t trust her with Garrus.

Even if she didn’t allow harm to come to him, she’d probably give up more personal information he didn’t want to be shared without his knowledge.

“No alarms, no police. Very professional.” She mentioned as they entered the building through the roof access door. 

He hummed in agreement. “Almost too professional. Thoughts?”

“Shadow Broker. Has to be.”

Vasir’s answer was too quick, the conclusion was drawn without any other input beyond Shepard’s word that T’Soni had a lead on the Shadow Broker. Either the asari knew more than she was letting on or she was in on it. Before he’d been too far gone into indoctrination to care, he’d had suspicions about her loyalties. This day could confirm it.

The halls were empty and alarms blared until he spent the time to shut the audio off. While bright white lights kept flashing the evacuation warning, it was easier to think without the noise. Saren was content to follow Vasir silently.

“Vakarian’s cute.” Apparently, she was not. “Not what I expected your type to be though, honestly. I mean… Kryik and Rix were-”

“Stop-”

“Much prettier -ack!”

Saren cut her off by slamming the asari into the nearest wall. “Stop talking!”

“Oops. Was that a nerve I hit?” Vasir chuckled despite the hand holding her by the throat, her mouth contorting into a venomous smirk. He dropped her and stalked further down the hallway. As he rounded the corner her voice followed him: “You always did wear your emotions on your plates.”

Tela Vasir remained the only person who could read him so well. Even after years apart. Forcing another growl down his throat, he continued forward checking for hostiles. Getting on his last nerve was always a favoured game of hers. She excelled at it.

They’d met at the lowest point in his life. Saren had been forced to kill Desolace in the months before and lost the only remaining member in his family. At nineteen he’d been alone and such great responsibilities had been thrust onto his shoulders. Vasir’s gruelling training regimen broke him of any sentimentality and honed him into the Spectre he became.

When Vasir caught up to him, Saren was bent over a systems console, correcting the fire suppression system errors caused by the explosion. Engaging it would buy them time. Time that could be used to get out before the building began collapsing around them.

“Just  _ how  _ are you back? The Council labelled you a terrorist and stripped your Spectre status. Last I saw-” she stopped.

Saren tilted his head to level a sideways glare up at Vasir. “Continue,” he quietly ordered, his rage simmering just below the surface.

Her arms crossed over her chest and her head tilted to the side. Saren read it for what it was: arrogance. “You were locked away in a cell on Purgatory. The station was destroyed and you were expected to have perished along with it.”

“You knew?” his shoulders tightened and hands stilled on the haptic interface.

“I escorted your transport ship,” Vasir said. “You were unconscious, bloodied and bandaged. Missing an arm. The doctors said they didn’t expect you to survive.”

“And you said?”

“That they should know better.” She grinned at him. “You’re one of mine.”

Saren scoffed and went back to work on the console. A moment later it dinged happily, indicating that the system was back online. He straightened, stretching his neck to the side. While he didn’t trust Vasir, she may have more intel than he was able to find on his own. Over the years, she’d been known to meddle, so perhaps this time it could be useful.

“Speaking of protégés…” he began, leaving the sentence unfinished for Vasir to interpret.

Taking the bait as they began moving down the hallway toward the next stairwell, she finished for him. “You want to know what came of yours?”

His subvocals buzzed an affirmative note while he cleared the next corner.

“Rix took quite a beating for you in the fallout,” Vasir explained, sounding almost bored. “He ‘retired’ from the Spectres.”

Saren stopped in his tracks, standing stock still as he asked: “He’s dead?”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “No. I mean he quit. Ran off on some fool’s errand, the Andromeda Initiative. What a load….”

“That is… out of character.”

“And what you did wasn’t?” Vasir scoffed before waving him off dismissively. “Don’t take my word for it. The passenger manifest was public. See for yourself when we’re done here.”

In silence, they worked through the building and down to the Baria Frontiers offices. Arriving a few minutes ahead of Shepard and Garrus, they were just in time to find a salarian sitting behind a desk quickly attempting to do something at his terminal. The other two had been waylaid by a group of mercenaries.

Before Saren could act, Vasir silenced the alien with a single shot from her pistol. She jogged across the small room, rounding the desk and shoving the body to the floor. “Don’t just stand there, Saren. Help me get the data!”

His pistol was drawn and aimed at her before she’d even gotten the words out. Saren’s tone was calm and even despite the moment reminding him too much of Eden Prime. “Why did you kill him?”

Briefly, Vasir glanced up. “You, of all people, are asking me that? Why does it matter?”

“Never kill without a reason, Tela,” Saren sneered. “You taught me that.” 

Her gaze shifted back to the terminal. “I also said it’s easy to find a reason. He was in my way.” 

Discreetly, Saren keyed his mic to the squad channel. “You were the one who tried to kill T’Soni.”

“You’ve had a rough time lately, so I’ll let that slide. Why don't you put that gun down?”

A small click sounded off in his aural unit before he heard Shepard’s voice.  _ “What’s going on?” _ The audio was coming in over the private channel, only he could hear it.

“T’Soni hid the information you needed in her apartment. Shepard found it for you.”

A data disk popped out of the terminal’s base. She pocketed it and looked up at him while drawing her own weapon. “Still sharp as ever, I see. Now you need to make a decision: are you with me or with him?”

Saren knew he needed to stall. Vasir was a powerful enemy and without armour, he had little hope of coming away from this encounter alive, not without backup. “You’ve betrayed the Council, Vasir. Why should I join you?”

“What other option do you have? When Shepard’s done he’ll cast you back into the abyss. You’re already a traitor, Saren. At least this time get something out of it.”

Vasir preyed on insecurities like a varren circling a wounded pyjak. If what she said was true and she had witnessed his state in Purgatory, she might very well have seen him broken down in the cell; hallucinating and weak. He’d rather die than be returned to their ‘care’ and she knew it.

“I am no traitor,” he snarled and took the shot. The bullet would have punched clean through her skull had it not ricocheted off her barrier. Her biotic field rippled and dissolved like the last vestiges of whatever their weak little truce had been. Vasir swept her arm out, letting off a shockwave that he was barely able to counter in the small space. The window exploded out into the street below and Saren was thrown into the wall beside the door. The blast knocked the wind out of him.

Vasir turned her gun on Saren but the rounds were stopped by a biotic barrier, one that wasn’t his own. Forcing himself to focus, Saren caught sight of another asari. At first, his addled vision nearly stopped his heart as the vision of Benezia stalked into the room. It was only after he blinked hard that his sight cleared, revealing the newcomer as Dr. T’Soni. In the next second, her hand raised and she threw a warp out across the small room that would have made her mother proud, hitting Vasir dead in the chest.

“You pureblood bitch!” his mentor cried out, clutching her chest. Before they could attack her again she leapt from the window into the street below, cushioning the fall with her biotics before taking off at a sprint. 

“She’s getting away!” T’soni didn’t spare him a second glance before she followed her target, hurtling down to the street below.

Saren grunted, picking himself up off the floor and holding his bruised ribs. Footsteps alerted him to the presence of the others. Shepard and Garrus came barrelling into the room with their guns drawn.

“Liara, get down!” Garrus yelled into the comms as he rushed for the window and brought his sniper rifle to his eye. The first round jolted his shoulder back and he spent no time before taking a second. “Clipped her. Liara is in pursuit. We should get down there.”

Without preamble, Shepard charged, his biotics flaring to shield him from the fall. Garrus was already halfway back to the door when Saren stopped him. “We’ll follow,” he said, scooping the taller turian into his arms. “Hold on.” There was no hesitation, Garrus wound his arms around Saren’s neck and they leapt after the others.

Catching up to Shepard and T’Soni didn’t take long. The path of carnage they’d left in their wake was easy to follow. Saren kept pace with Garrus despite the ache building behind his keel. Vasir’s blast had definitely cracked a rib or worse but without his armour, he had no way to know how badly. But there was no time to dwell on the injury. Not with his former mentor at large. 

When they stopped behind a piece of cover to take out a straggler, he caught Garrus eyeing him. Saren’s hand had moved to cover his ribs, the pressure easing the pain for their few moments of rest. While he detected the note of distress in his partner’s subvocal tone, Garrus said nothing of it and they continued on.

Soon, they could see the human and two asari. They were just in time to watch Vasir leap off the side of a building and into her skycar below. T’Soni hit a few keys on her own omnitool, stealing a vehicle for herself and Shepard.

“Go! We’ll follow!” Garrus shouted, waving them along.

Saren caught Shepard’s wave before he hopped into the commandeered vehicle and took chase. When he turned, Garrus had already picked a car and he was hacking through the locking mechanism. 

“Got it!” he declared as the door opened for him. Garrus got into the driver’s seat and he adjusted the console for three-fingered controls while Saren joined him from the passenger’s side. Garrus looked over at him, grinning as he said: “Hold on tight.”

Before Saren could reply, he was forced back into the seat by the sudden acceleration. Garrus’ hands flew across the controls, steering them well above the rest of the traffic and speeding along the straight-away.

In a brief minute, they were on Shepard and Vasir’s tail. A blinking dot on the radar screen in front of Garrus showed him their position.

“Where did you learn to drive?” Saren asked after a few stunned moments of silence.

“My dad,” Garrus replied shortly without taking his eyes off the windshield. He sent them skidding around a corner with the car’s air brake. The vehicle’s inertial dampers were no match for his driving. “It’s the only thing we enjoyed doing together. This and sniping.”

His brow raised and he watched his partner’s face. “Can you pilot ships?”

“Not like this, prefer skycars. Was supposed to race for a summer when I was a kid,” Garrus’ mandible quirked to the side. He was focused on moving through a construction site without hitting anything and Saren let him work.

Once they were through and back in smooth air, he prompted: “Supposed to?”

“Mom got in a skycar crash. Dad was on the Citadel and Sol was too young for her to handle things on her own. I stayed back.” There was no hint of bitterness in his tone, only a wistful note of regret for the path untaken. “Focused on sniping instead. Better career path.”

One of Garrus’ arms shot out to hold Saren into his seat as he nearly had to spin the car to ensure they missed a transport truck that had been thrown into their path by Vasir’s proximity mines. So much carnage for a data disk. Saren hoped it was worth it. Garrus hummed an apology and withdrew his hand.

“I’m fine, Garrus. Just drive.”

Garrus nodded and boosted them forward again, pushing the car beyond the manufacturer's limits with a few quick systems hacks that he would have had to pre-program onto his omnitool for them to be installed so quickly.

“Is Vasir really your mentor?” he asked once they were on another straight-away and he was able to glance away from the windshield for a moment, though his gaze didn’t linger. It went right back to the sky.

“Vasir trained me to be a Spectre but I wouldn’t call her a mentor, no.” Saren’s mandibles shifted as he attempted to figure out how to best word his experience. “My short time in the Cabals and afterward with my brother’s Black Ops team made me a suitable candidate. She honed my skills into deadlier weapons.”

“Desolas?” Garrus asked, his vocals were muted and apologetic. “It was one of the only declassified items I could find. Your brother was a Hierarchy General. They couldn’t expunge his entire record when you became a Spectre.”

Saren wasn’t surprised. It made sense Garrus would have looked into everything about him before the interrogation. He had done the same. Though there were no records of his driving prowess, probably due to the missed scholarship. 

“I’ll tell you about him once we’re rid of Vasir,” Saren assured. There wasn’t time now, not as they watched the Spectre’s skycar crash onto a hotel’s balcony below them.

Garrus brought them down beside Shepard and T’Soni’s car. It was far more beat up than their own and the asari commented as much when they exited the vehicle to form up with them. Shepard took point.

Following Vasir was simple. She left a trail of blood behind her.

They caught up with her taking a human woman hostage inside a restaurant. Vasir asked for the woman’s name and she held her close to her chest as she taunted them. “Mariana, you want to live, don’t you? Tell those people that you want to live.”

Saren despised the tactic. 

“We’ll get you out of here safely, Mariana,” Shepard tried to placate the crying woman as she whimpered in Vasir’s grasp before turning his attention on the Spectre herself. “Even if you get out of here, you’ll lose your Spectre status. You attacked that building and killed all those people.”

“You think so?” Vasir chuckled. “I think maybe Cerberus terrorists did that. Or perhaps Arterius went rogue again. Which story do you think the Council will believe?”

“Shepard-” Garrus growled beside him, his rifle lined up and ready to take the shot on Shepard’s go ahead. Saren could hear the metal creak beneath his grip. The human took a pace closer to Vasir, giving the sniper the hold command as he holstered his assault rifle on his back.

Vasir took a step back, pulling the human with her. Her head swivelled, taking in the four aggressors, and her attention landed on Saren last. “All you had to do was walk away. Now it gets ugly.”

Mariana screamed. “Please! I have a son.”

Saren scoffed. The information wouldn’t help her in the slightest, it only gave Tela more fuel to throw onto Shepard’s fire. “A son? I hope he gets to see you again. I’ve heard losing a parent is just horrific for children. Scars them for life.”

“I’m going to end you, Vasir.” T’Soni seethed.

“It’s okay, Liara.” Shepard soothed, his eyes never straying from his opponent. Clearly, hostage situations were nothing new for the human. “We’ll handle it. The usual way.”

“You want Mariana’s little boy to grow up without a mommy, Shepard? Thermal clips on the ground, now. Power cells, too.”

“Is that it?” Shepard asked, causing the Spectre to falter. “Vasir, I’ve sacrificed thousands of human lives to save the Destiny Ascension. I brought Saren out of cryo. So for your sake, I hope your escape plan doesn’t hinge on me hesitating to shoot a damn hostage.”

The words were enough to destabilize Vasir. She took a step backward, pulling the woman with her. “You’re bluffing!”

“Now!” Shepard yelled. In the span of only a couple heartbeats, Shepard biotically charged forward and Garrus took the shot. Both Vasir and the hostage screamed, but only one fell to the ground. Shepard caught the human and Vasir started to scramble away, her barrier stripped away and her shield nearly depleted.

Liara was on her quickly, throwing out another warp as Saren emptied his clip. Once it was spent, he raised his hands to perform the mnemonic for a stasis field to stop Vasir from moving away. She was trapped. 

“Too slow,” Shepard told her as he let the hostage run for the exit. “Stupid move, taking a hostage. I don’t take well to threats.”

“You’re pathetic!” Vasir sneered, she was unable to move anything but her mouth with his stasis field in place. She’d taught Saren the technique and he wouldn’t allow her to break it. “Hiding behind your lackeys. Real Spectres work alone.”

Shepard ignored the comment and walked over to kneel down a half-metre away. “Where’s the data, Vasir?”

“Ugh. Damn it!” Vasir struggled but Saren concentrated on keeping his field stable. The back of his neck grew warm from the strain and his amp tingled uncomfortably. Even on her deathbed, Vasir was a formidable opponent. She swore and eventually gave up as T’Soni joined Shepard to search through the Spectre’s armour until she found the data. “Damn it.”

“Sekat’s personal datapad,” T’Soni announced as she pulled back to begin sifting through the data. “This has what we need to find the Shadow Broker.”

“You’re dead!” Vasir screeched. “The Shadow Broker has been in power for decades. He’s stronger than anything you’ve ever faced!”

Saren took a few steps closer, his arm was beginning to shake from the effort of keeping the field stable while the Matron warred with him. Garrus was right beside him, his rifle to his eye, aimed and ready just in case.

“Is that why you sold out the Council, to work for him?” Shepard asked.

“You think I betrayed the Council? Like him?” She struggled to raise her hand, pointing a shaking finger at Saren for a moment before it fell back into her lap. “Go to hell!”

“I was indoctrinated, Vasir,” Saren reminded her. If she’d been there to transport him, then she’d know all of the torture he’d been put through. “This is your own doing.”

“The Broker’s given me damn good intel over the years,” she spat. “Intel that saved lives and kept the Citadel safe! So if the Broker needs a few people to disappear, I’ll pay that price without hesitation!”

“Spectres don’t blow up buildings filled with innocent people!” Garrus snarled.

“Sure we do. Isn’t that right, Saren?” Vasir raised her chin a bit, stopping to cough. A purple spray of blood came out of her lungs and she wheezed. “We get our hands dirty so the Council doesn’t have to. We kill anyone who gets in our way.”

Shepard looked back at him, “I don’t buy it.”

“The Councillors might complain about our methods to soothe their consciences,” Saren agreed with Vasir. There was no reason for him to lie about what he’d done in the past. Vasir had crossed the line by working for the Shadow Broker, not by killing civilians. “They never look too closely.”

“Besides, you’re with Cerberus,” Vasir continued. “Do you have any idea what your terrorist friends have done?”

Shepard rounded on the asari again. “I know who they are and what they’ve done. It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does!” she snarled weakly. The asari was fading fast, even with immediate medical care, she wasn’t long for this world. “You want to judge me? Look in the mirror. Kidnapping kids for biotic death camps! Hell, your own unit on Akuze! And you’re with them. Don’t you dare judge me! Don’t you-”

Vasir did not get a chance to say more. A single bullet through her skull silenced her. Garrus was done listening. His shoulders were rising and falling rapidly. The anger rolling off him in waves even as he finally brought the sight away from his eye. Saren dropped his stasis field and worked to level out his own breathing. He hated biotic sparring matches.

“Garrus! What the hell?” Shepard rounded on him, rising to stand as he moved.

“You weren’t going to get anything else out of her,” he explained in a flat voice. His free hand raised to tap his visor. “She was dead regardless.”

Shepard sighed and rubbed his brow. “Just… give me a minute with Liara, alright?”

“Take your time.”

\---

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> Garrus and Saren's outfits are inspired by Solider 76 and Reaper from Overwatch because I've been playing way too much of that lately and can't help but see all of the similarities between the characters. [**Ponara-arts**](http://ponara-arts.tumblr.com/) drew Garrus for me!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  “I’m just worried, Saren. We’re about to walk onto a Reaper. I…” he inhaled and released the breath slowly against the back of his neck. “I don’t want to lose you. If there’s a chance of that happening….” Saren heard Garrus swallow and felt him nuzzle in a little tighter to his back. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Play with Fire - Sam Tinnez (feat. Yacht Money)**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzVQkO92wNw)
> 
> NSFW this chapter, to skip stop at -There was no preamble.- and resume at -“Are you all right?”-.

10 - Faults and Fortitude

\- - -

Less than a week later, after Hagalaz, another lead fell into their hands.

Shepard gathered the entire team into the _Normandy’s_ briefing room. The Illusive Man had found a way through the Omega-4 relay. All they needed was to acquire an ‘Identify Friend or Foe’ device, an IFF. Conveniently, the remains of a Reaper from the last cycle floated in orbit around an uninhabited planet.

They were on their way there now and hatching a plan to traverse the Reaper’s innards. The entire ground team was present. Thirteen sets of eyes working for a common goal. As of yet, they had nothing solid and were mostly caught up in small arguments amongst one another.

“Suggestions?” Shepard asked looking around the table with a calculating stare.

Different options floated out in quick succession. Jack suggested going in with ‘guns blazing’. Ms. Goto wanted to infiltrate the Reaper and gain intel before sending in a larger contingent. Operative Taylor seemed more concerned about the fact the Cerberus Science Team had stopped responding to hails than actually finding the IFF.

It wasn’t until Saren made his own suggestion that the room went quiet. All eyes moved to stare at him with varying expressions from disbelief to amusement to worry. Despite the noise of the drive core below them, had a bolt been dropped it would have echoed.

“Say again,” the Spectre demanded. Shepard had already been on edge but now his hands clenched around the rim of the table and his jaw clenched tight.

“I’ve been aboard a Reaper,” Saren repeated himself, replying to the human’s incredulous order in a flat tone. “I should be on the ground team.”

“Absolutely not.” Shepard bit out, the corner of his lip twitching almost as if he was trying to snarl.

Remaining calm, Saren kept his eyes on the Spectre. No matter how much he wanted to look at his partner’s expression, he couldn’t break eye contact with the man and show weakness. Looking to Garrus, who was standing to Shepard’s right, would have been seen as uncertainty at best. Saren couldn’t afford that. It was only logical to bring him along as he was very well acquainted with a Reaper’s layout. Shepard had to see it was true.

Saren tilted his head to the side, keeping his next words slow and even. “How else do you expect to navigate the bowels of the enemy, Shepard?”

“You can stay on the ship,” he said. “And remain in contact with EDI.”

He suppressed a sigh and stated the obvious flaw with that plan. “And if the AI cannot penetrate the Reaper’s walls?”

“Then we’ll figure it out!” Shepard looked away, flexing his jaw while he attempted to regain his composure. His shoulders were tight, dark circles rested beneath his eyes. The mission weighed on him and it showed.

If the human had actually been given Spectre training, he’d be able to think his missions through more clearly. He wouldn’t be so reliant on his typical three-membered squad formation. Shepard’s thinking was too linear, his preconceived notions too ingrained for him to come up with alternatives. His team would see him crumbling as plainly as Saren himself did.

The air in the room was electrified. At Saren’s left, he heard Tali’Zorah clenching her hands together and Jack’s biotics buzz faintly. Saren did not remove his gaze from Shepard’s form. Not yet.

Straightening up, Shepard briefly glanced to his right at Garrus before laying his narrowed eyes on Saren once again.

“You were indoctrinated, Saren.” The words fell from Shepard’s mouth like an unwelcome truth to be laid bare for all to see. The proverbial heart of the problem beat openly and unprotected on the table.

Regardless, Saren refused to back down.

“ _‘Were’_ being the operative term, Shepard. The Council saw to that.” Saren schooled his expression still, willing away the memories of uncaring eyes and sharp scalpels. “ _Sovereign_ is destroyed. My mind is my own.”

Before Shepard could reply, Lawson cut in. “Arterius has a point, Commander. We may only have one chance to find the IFF.”

 _“Operative Lawson is correct,”_ the AI said, as she changed the hologram in the centre of the conference table from the derelict Reaper to a depiction of a small electronic device. _“Without the IFF we cannot traverse the Omega-4 relay.”_

The Spectre took a deep inhale into his lungs and let it out harshly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. The decision was already made by the time he opened his eyes. “Fine. But we’re taking precautions.”

Humming a note of understanding, Saren finally allowed his gaze to find his partner’s. Garrus wore an indiscernible expression, his plates were blank and his eyes impassive as he looked directly at the older turian and then turned away to watch Shepard. That, perhaps, was worse than any of the other possibilities.

At that moment, Saren didn’t know if Garrus still trusted him. After their run-in with Morinth, Garrus had said he loved him. He trusted him. But that didn’t make his gizzard knot any less or his jaw loosen. Stepping foot on a Reaper was risky. Perhaps too risky to venture.

Regardless, if they were going to stop the Reapers, it needed to be done.

Saren turned his gaze back on Shepard before he could spiral further and waited for him to continue. It took a moment but slowly the normal mission planning momentum picked up speed. When they finished, the plan had shifted from Shepard’s usual three-membered squad to five.

“Saren,” Shepard addressed him individually. “Meet in the cargo bay fifteen minutes before we drop.”

He flicked his crest and headed for the door. His dismissal was understandable, yet he couldn’t help feeling vaguely annoyed that he was unable to see to the meeting’s end. At being… left out.

By the time the door opened to release him, Shepard was continuing: “Samara, Miranda and Garrus, stay. Everyone else is dismissed.”

Behind him, Saren heard shuffling feet and he managed to exit without looking back, feeling Garrus’ eyes on him as he did so. He hoped his partner would explain what he missed before drop time. Otherwise, he’d be in the dark.

+-+-+-+

Saren waited in their quarters. He sat on the couch first, taking the time to look out at the stars as the waves of the mass effect field washed over the ship. The view was calming as it always was and it helped him settle his mind. They were in the Hawking Eta, the Thorne star system, one that he couldn’t recall being in before, and approaching the planet Mnemosyne where the derelict Reaper circled in a slowly decaying orbit.

They were, of course, too far away for him to actually see the ship. ‘Nearby’ in space meant millions of kilometres, far beyond viewing distance for any species’ naked eye. Still, the impending sense of dread he felt was real. The last time he was on a Reaper, it was _Sovereign._ Saren had allowed himself to be indoctrinated.

He allowed a solid half hour to pass before attempting to keep himself busy with his omnitool, tearing his gaze away from the void. He couldn’t bear watching the star come ever closer. Despite his best attempts, however, reading did not go well either. He read the same paragraph over and over again, the text not making sense until he finally gave up.

Checking the time, it had been an hour. There was still no sign of Garrus.

“EDI,” he spoke aloud, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as Garrus’ did whenever he addressed the AI. “Has the briefing finished?”

 _“Yes,”_ the disembodied voice came over the room’s speaker. _“The Commander dismissed the others fifteen minutes ago and has gone to his quarters to prepare. ETA at the drop site is thirty-five minutes. Would you like to relay a message?”_

“No. Where is Garrus?”

_“He is in the forward battery.”_

Saren stiffened in his seat at her words, his artificial hand tightening hard enough around his knee to hurt. “Thank you, EDI. That is all.”

_“Logging you out, Arterius.”_

Slowly, Saren’s hands rose from his knees to cradle his face in his palms. He rested his weight on his elbows and allowed his shoulders to slump. Garrus didn’t want to see him. Fifteen minutes was more than enough time to return to their quarters. That sick feeling from earlier returned in full force, twisting his gizzard into an even tighter knot. He was going to lose him, again. These crippling insecurities should be gone by now but he couldn’t shake them.

_No._

No, he wasn’t going to allow himself to wallow. Saren stood up in one fluid motion, pinching his mandibles into his jaw. He was going to go and tell Garrus exactly what he thought. That he wasn’t a risk. He _could_ be trusted.

Halfway to the exit, he was interrupted from his near-rampage by the doors sliding open to admit the very turian that caused it. It made Saren stop dead in his tracks. Garrus was armoured, his rifle already clipped to his back and his pistol was on his hip. The damaged rim made him look all the more dangerous than a pristine suit would in the same shadowed lighting.

“Saren?” Garrus said, stopping just inside the door. Without voicing anything else, Saren could already see the worry in him. It was written in his eyes and in the tightness of his hands.

The door closed.

“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question. He heard Garrus’ maw snap shut. It was answer enough and he turned away, growling: “Leave.”

He felt Garrus’ hand on his shoulder and then his presence sweep in behind him. The other male’s crest touched down on the back of his neck, a few centimetres to the right of his amp. A warm and comforting rumble left his chest and Saren was too weak to fight him off. He didn’t even try.

“I’m just worried, Saren. We’re about to walk onto a Reaper. I…” he inhaled and released the breath slowly against the back of his neck. “I don’t want to lose you. If there’s a chance of that happening….” Saren heard Garrus swallow and felt him nuzzle in a little tighter to his back. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Saren twisted in Garrus’ grip, his anger falling away. Pulling Garrus down, he pressed their crests together. _“Sovereign_ is gone, Garrus.”

“This one isn’t _Sovereign,”_ he whispered, his eyes closing as he applied a little more pressure between them with his crest. “What if it tries to control you? What if you’re more... susceptible than before?”

The biotic allowed his own eyes to close too. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t considered that fact. But they needed the IFF, this was their only chance. “This one is dead.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then we kill it.” That comment got a small chuckle out of Garrus and Saren felt the weight in his chest dissipate a little more. “Test your new cannon.”

Garrus did laugh at that and he cupped the back of Saren’s neck. His glove was cold but the weight helped settle him. “I was planning to blow it out of the sky when we were done, regardless.”

Saren’s mandible shifted, almost into a smile.

As the tension melted away, he needed to be serious for one more moment. “You are going to be with me, Garrus. Before…. It helped.”

“Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.” Garrus pulled away and his mandibles shifted into a lopsided smile, his gaze softer than before. “I meant what I said. I trust you. You have to believe me, Saren.”

Saren sighed and brought his hand up to cup Garrus’ mandible. The other turian closed his eyes and pressed into the touch, a warm rumble reverberated between them as Saren replied: “I do.”

+-+-+-+

Saren had no weapons on him when they entered the Reaper. He had snarled at Shepard when asked to hand them over. It was for the best, a precaution, he said. Saren had given them up, leaving his assault rifle on the ship and he gave his pistol to Garrus to carry along with his amp.

It angered him more than it should have. But he needed Shepard to trust him, so over the weapons went -to his partner- in case of emergency. With Garrus at his back, he would be safe enough. He still had his armour and his biotics would still be useful enough. Although, he expected to have a splitting headache by the time the mission was done just as he had after Purgatory. Heavy biotic use without an amp was ill-advised.

However, Samara’s presence on this mission made sense once he gave up the device. She was the only one who’d be able to subdue him. Her biotics rivalled his own and without the edge his equipment provided him, she would win in a head-on challenge.

Garrus’ voice drew him out of his head.

“Exploring an abandoned area,” he said as they exited the airlock. “Expecting something mechanical and nasty to jump out at any moment. Just like old times.”

Shepard chuffed. “You’re not wrong.”

They walked through an entryway that was identical to _Sovereign's._ Saren’s eyes darted around behind his helmet, cataloguing the area. Sterile walls and doors surrounded them, large enough for any sapient species to walk through comfortably. Looking at it now, he realized it had been designed like the Citadel -Just accommodating enough for nearly any species to use.

The human science team had left equipment strewn about. Terminals and tools, all branded with the Cerberus logo. His mandibles pinched beneath his helmet. _Idiots._

Weapons out, the squad checked the room and Garrus brought up some of the Cerberus team’s audio logs. A doctor began speaking about their arrival. ‘ _The crew is edgy,’_ he said. Saren didn’t doubt it. Their team appeared _edgy_ as well. Samara had yet to train her weapon somewhere other than his back. If he didn’t have enough reasons to dislike her before, after Garrus’ run-in with Morinth, then he did now.

Venturing further into the Reaper, something activated its kinetic barriers, trapping them inside. Taking out the Reaper’s core would deactivate them and also send the machine into the planet below. It complicated the matter and he heard Garrus growl in annoyance. The thanix cannon wouldn’t be getting its test run today after all.

Saren led them through the ship, sweeping for survivors and data. While they found none of the former, the latter was available in scads. Cerberus was particularly competent with surveillance footage, evidenced by yet another terminal that housed logs.

Pulling the more recent entries up, Garrus made a noise of discomfort and looked over to him. Saren met him at the terminal. “What is it?”

“The humans… they’re acting strange,” he said and backed up the footage to play once again. Two men were arguing about some bonding story. Who the original tale belonged to. _What the hell is this? How can we remember the same thing?_

“Ah,” Saren blinked a few times and looked away. He and Benezia had the same issue once. It had been about their early biotics training. The story didn’t belong to him but at the time… he thought it had.

“It sounds like the Reaper was affecting their minds,” Shepard interjected. “Do you think they were indoctrinated?”

Saren blinked and looked away. “The beginnings of it.”

He felt Garrus’ hand on his arm through the armour and pulled away. This wasn’t the time for sentimentality.

“We should keep moving,” Lawson said from the top of the catwalk that would lead them to the core. A corridor had been set up by the science team, taking them through one of the emptier sections of the ship.

“Take point,” Shepard ordered and he followed her down the walkway. Garrus walked beside Saren and Samara took their six. No sooner than his feet touched the bottom of the ramp did groans begin to echo. “Shit,” Shepard cursed. “I think we found the science team!”

“Incoming!” Garrus yelled.

There was nothing much that Saren could do beyond applying a relatively weak barrier to himself and then melee with the husks that got too close. With a squad of four others, it didn’t take them long to get through the first waves. They headed further and further into the Reaper’s body. More husks attacked and the squad defended both themselves and him.

He hated feeling so useless.

At least Garrus was with him. Without his partner, he might not have been able to keep his anger in check. The occasional hand brushing over his shoulder and casual flicks of Garrus’ crest kept Saren calm through the fight. Even as a headache began to start behind his eyes, Saren was able to keep the graceful sweeps of his biotics flowing over the field to toss husks away.

When they reached the next section of the ship, enough time had passed that Saren’s headache had blossomed into a full-blown migraine. Using his biotics without an amp was uncomfortable, combined with the stress of being here it was getting to be a little... much. The constant drone of his partner’s rifle next to him, while calming, likely wasn’t helping the problem.

“Sniper!” Garrus yelled suddenly, he aimed his rifle across the field and took a shot.

Saren saw where he was looking and that threw up a barrier in the correct direction to protect the squad. A single round shattered the barrier, but a second didn’t come. Garrus had scared off the… _the geth?_

“Shepard-Commander,” it said before disappearing behind cover. Garrus’ shot had missed.

“Watch out!” Lawson shouted as she threw another husk off the catwalk with a quick biotic push. The geth’s intended target became apparent, it was the Reaper pawn... not Shepard. “What was that?”

“No idea,” Shepard replied, shaking his head. He turned his gaze on Saren now that they had a moment to breathe. Samara kept watch across the field. “Since when do geth work alone?”

“Since when do the geth talk?” Lawson interjected as well.

“They don’t,” Saren said before correcting himself: “Didn’t.” He shook his head, one hand raising to grab at his helmet as he closed his eyes. “I do not know.”

“Try harder, Saren.” Shepard insisted, his voice dropping into a rougher and more demanding tone. It was accusatory. _“You_ controlled the geth.”

A shadow passed over his vision and when Saren opened his eyes Garrus was standing between them. His shoulders were back and his stature increased as he snarled: “Back off, Shepard!”

The human did, in fact, take a pace back. He tilted his helmet to the side, gesturing distantly into the Reaper’s bowels. “Let’s keep moving.”

While the other two began to follow Shepard, Garrus turned to him. His hand almost touched down on Saren’s shoulder but he pushed him off before that could happen. They needed to focus.

“We need to go through this area,” Saren said, brushing past Garrus to walk alongside the Spectre. “At the end of the catwalk, we’ll reach the core.”

Shepard glanced up at him before refocusing ahead. “By your lead, Saren.”

And so they pushed on, ultimately collecting the IFF.

When they encountered the geth again, it was inside the Reaper’s central hub. It had been knocked offline by a few husks. Those same husks kept them busy for a handful of minutes while they worked to destroy the core. It exploded in short order.

The geth was determined to be too valuable to leave behind. Shepard and Saren at least agreed on that point. With it slung between him and Garrus, they ran for the exit.

_“Saren.”_

“What?” He asked over comms. The sound of the _Normandy’s_ engines roared as they approached the ship. It was hard to hear himself think, let alone hear the others.

“I didn’t say anything,” Garrus grunted in reply.

Saren stumbled. Nearly taking both of them and the geth to the deck. Thankfully Garrus managed to stabilize them and he hefted more of the machine’s weight to help him compensate. The Justicar went across the gap first, then it was their turn.

Dread seeped into Saren’s chest, even as they took a great leap of faith from the station through the weightlessness of space and onto the _Normandy_ itself. _It couldn’t have been…. It wasn’t._

They hit the deck hard. Saren could feel a shooting pain jolt up his right leg and he stumbled into the airlock wall. _Fuck_. It hurt and momentarily caused his vision to darken. He heard two additional pairs of feet slam down against the deck: Shepard and Lawson.

He dropped the geth and groaned as Shepard slammed his fist against the door as soon as it closed. The noise made it feel like his crest was cracking in two.

“We’re clear! Go!” Shepard yelled.

 _“Aye, aye, Commander!”_ the pilot replied over the comms.

The inertial dampeners weren’t given a chance to kick in, or not enough anyway, as the entire squad jostled with the acceleration. Garrus caught him to make sure he didn’t fall. Saren’s head was pounding, his body felt weak and sickly, his knee and hip were on fire.

Wrenching the helmet off his head, he pulled in a few breaths. They helped. All the while, Garrus was watching him, his gaze obscured by his visor.

He’d… he must have said his name. That was the only explanation for it. Saren pulled away.

“I’ll be in our quarters,” he said.

“Yeah…” Garrus replied, letting him go. “I’ll be there soon. Just going to help Shepard with the geth first.”

Saren nodded once and headed for the elevator.

Had they been alone, he would have asked for assistance. But they were not. The Cerberus crew watched him with their impertinent eyes and overly curious personalities. Shepard was watching him, too. The man critical and unforgiving even when presented with evidence.

He kept himself together, managing not to limp until he reached his room. Only then did he allow himself to slide down to the floor, his back against the sealed doors. Both his hands cradled his crest, trying to stave off the pain building behind his temples. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

He just… he needed Garrus.

Garrus would ground him. Just like before. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

+-+-+-+

Garrus watched his partner walk away.

Saren’s pace was normal by all accounts, unhurried as he stepped into the elevator to go below deck. That in itself was enough for Garrus to be concerned about his well being. With how his subvocals had been frayed nearing the end of the Reaper mission… he should have been at least a little off.

A normal pace meant that he was hiding something. And it wasn’t just a limp. Garrus had seen the way Saren hit the deck and stumbled... but there was more to it.

Cutting off his concerned trill before Shepard or the others noticed, he turned his attention back to the hunk of metal on the floor of the airlock. He pulled his helmet off and attached it to its place on his thigh guard. “So… Tali is going to blow a suit seal when she sees this.”

The attempt at humour got a smile out of the Commander as he, too, removed his helmet. “You’re probably right about that. Maybe we shouldn’t tell her.”

“Right… that’ll go over real well,” he scoffed. “Where did you want to put it?”

Reaching down, Garrus grabbed the geth’s arm as Shepard joined him and took the other. Between them, they hoisted it off the ground. Garrus had to bend a little to accommodate the man’s shorter stature.

“The AI core, I guess,” Shepard said before looking at the ceiling. “EDI, that going to be a problem?”

_“Negative, Commander. My systems are secure.”_

Garrus shrugged and pulled it up a little higher. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Talk to it,” Shepard shot him a grin as they started walking.

He couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from his maw. “Of course you are.”

“It said my _name,_ Garrus.”

“So did _Harbinger,”_ the turian thoughtfully reminded him.

Shepard half-heartedly shoved the geth toward him. They both laughed and completely ignored Lawson’s concerns as she followed them into the elevator. Samara remained behind, stopping in the armoury -most likely dropping off her weapons.

Once the geth was settled into the AI core and Tali had been called in to consult, Garrus made his way back out into the medical bay. He was correct: their quarian engineer had not been impressed and he left Shepard alone to face Tali’s wrath. He did tell Shepard to leave the geth on the Reaper. It wasn’t his fault that his friend didn’t listen.

“Something funny, Garrus?” Karin asked from her desk as she spun around in her chair. One of her brows was raised at him and her hands slid to her lap to clasp over her crossed legs. She appeared the picture of poise, despite the amusement in her eyes.

Garrus flicked a mandible. “Just Tali’s reaction.”

“I see,” her smile faded and she stood, pulling out her omnitool to review the mission logs that would have started transferring to her the second they entered the ship. “In that case, any new injuries I should be aware of?”

Garrus shook his head. “The team is fine.” His armour was a little dented and he knocked on the chest plate. “I’m fit as can be, Doc. Not a single one got through.”

“My my, learning to duck I see,” she quipped without taking her gaze off the ‘tool.

“Turians don’t know how,” he winked and started walking backward toward the doors. He wanted to get to Saren, he’d wasted enough time. “But I’ll keep trying.”

“See that you do,” Karin said. “Before you go….”

“Hm?” he stopped, his head tilting to the side as she turned to her desk and fished through the dextro-medications drawer. He was familiar with that one. “Something wrong?”

“Was Arterius injured? His readings are a little… off.”

Garrus’ mandibles pulled into his face. “I’m not sure. He hit the deck pretty hard when we had to make the jump from the Reaper to the station….” Karin briefly looked up at him, disapprovingly, before going back down to the drawer. “And he was using his biotics a fair amount without his amp.”

The Doctor’s mouth had a very particular line it pulled into when she disagreed with something, especially when it came to medical matters. The last time he’d seen that particular look had been when she was trying to treat Grunt’s thresher maw acid burn. The krogan wanted it to scar. She disapproved of that too.

“He’s suffering a migraine,” she said, standing straight and measuring out a few pills into a smaller canister. “I’d rather see him but if he hasn’t come already, he won’t. Give him these and send him to me if it doesn’t improve.”

“Will do,” Garrus met her halfway, taking the pills from her. “Is his leg alright?”

She smiled, patting his hand as he pulled away. “Nothing is broken. Sleep will do him well.”

“Got it.” Garrus turned for the door, but when it slid open he hesitated. He then looked back at Doctor Chakwas, his good mandible shifting into a smile. “Thank you.”

The doctor waved him off and he went on his way.

When Garrus arrived at his and Saren’s quarters he was vexed to discover the lock glowing red. Thankfully, he didn’t need to ask EDI for help -she unlocked it for him without prompting.

An angry growl greeted him when he walked in, along with the clang of an armoured gauntlet hitting the workbench. It was dark, save the starlight outside the viewport. Garrus felt his shoulders drop. Saren was always particular about his gear, meticulous in fact. The Reaper must have shaken him, more than his partner expected it to.

Without saying a word, Garrus walked deeper into the room and began to assist. At first, Saren’s spine was tighter than a quarian’s suit seals but as the parts were carefully removed and the weight lifted from his shoulders, Saren began to relax. His near-constant snarling reduced to the occasional grunt and his hands fell to the workbench to help keep the weight off his leg.

Once he was nude, Garrus wrapped an arm around his partner’s waist and helped him to sit on the edge of the bed. Saren watched him remove his own gear and the sniper tried to keep it as quiet as possible. It took longer than he’d like but aggravating Saren’s headache was not something at the top of his to-do list.

Grabbing a half-finished bottle of water off the desk and the pills, he headed over to the bed. A warm rumble of affection left his chest and Garrus kept his voice down as he offered the painkillers.

“This should help,” he said.

Saren’s eyes narrowed at the pills. “What is that?”

“I stopped by the med bay. Chakwas gave me painkillers for your headache. Then you can sleep,” Garrus’ mandible shifted out in a sympathetic smile, only wishing he could help more. “Would your amp help?”

“Yes,” Saren took the offerings while Garrus went looking through the armour parts for his thigh guard, where he’d left the device in its storage compartment. When he turned back around, Saren was propped up on the pillows and taking the medication.

He offered the small piece of tech back: “Here. I didn’t know it would be so bad. I don’t think Shepard did either.”

Saren scoffed around the mouth of the bottle. “He’s a biotic. He knew.”

Garrus noticed that his partner’s hand was shaking as he took the device and corrected its orientation before slotting it back into its port. The placeholder brick he’d used to keep the port protected was tossed across the bed. Garrus picked it up and placed it down on the desk before he joined Saren.

“Something wrong?” Garrus rumbled, unsure what to do with himself. He wanted to be there for Saren but didn’t quite know how. He remembered the migraines Alenko used to get on the SR-1. The human always wanted to be alone and in the dark and quiet. “I can go if you want.”

“No!” Saren bit out quickly and grabbed for him before he could even begin to move away. He shut his eyes a little tighter after that, groaning as he said: “Stay.”

Shaking off the slight surprise at his partner’s sudden movement, Garrus moved closer, following Saren’s lead as he was gently tugged into his chest. “All right,” Garrus quietly told him. After a moment or two of adjusting, they found a comfortable enough position with Garrus’ head resting on Saren’s shoulder and his arm encircling his waist.

They stayed like that for a while, until some of the tension started to seep out of Saren’s body. He was wound so tight that Garrus was almost afraid he’d snap like a twig if given the chance.

“How’s the headache?”

“Better.”

“That’s good,” Garrus murmured and nuzzled into his shoulder a little deeper. “Do… you want to talk about the mission?”

“No.”

Garrus pushed himself up a little, enough so he could look Saren in the eyes. The biotic was looking down at him, an unreadable expression on his plates. “This isn’t one-way, Saren. If… if something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

“There is one thing….” Saren’s head tilted to the side slightly, his mandibles shifting in a way that Garrus didn’t quite understand but recognized from a long time ago.

Regardless of his comprehension, Garrus waited for him to continue.

Saren slowly sat up, pushing him off and down onto the blankets. Garrus went easily but his affectionate purr trailed off and it was replaced by one of curiosity. He allowed Saren to climb astride his hips and trap his wrists above his head. The other turian’s crest came down against his, his eyes shut.

Pressing up into the weight of his partner’s crest, Garrus shifted his voice again. This time to reassurance. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Let me help,” he whispered.

“I can’t be gentle,” Saren warned, rubbing his crest against Garrus’. The words were curt, but his subvocals gave off an almost desperate pitch.

“Nanus is my safe word,” Garrus told him as his hips rose slightly to meet Saren’s. His partner pulled away enough to look at him and Garrus tilted his head back to bare his throat. “I trust you.”

There was no preamble.

Garrus gasped as Saren’s free hand suddenly pushed his head further back, baring his throat even more so that his teeth could close possessively upon him. In seconds, Garrus’ pulse was racing and a moan fell into the dark room around them. Saren’s rough tongue followed his fangs, soothing the light scrapes he’d left along the tawny brown hide in their wake.

“Fuck,” Garrus breathed, his breath catching as Saren bit down a little harder. This time he drew minuscule droplets of cobalt from his neck. Garrus could already feel his cock beginning to harden beneath his plates and he swallowed down another moan.

“No,” Saren growled and nipped him in reprimand. “Let me hear you.”

With an order like that, Garrus was helpless but to allow the moan to fall from his throat and out into the room. By the time the night was over, he was going to be hoarse. He knew it already.

Saren’s bare hips rolled down into his own without a hint of the injury from their jump. He then trailed his real hand down Garrus’ body, leaving white marks behind on his plates and hide. They’d been together long enough to know how the other liked to be touched. The left side of Garrus’ waist and just above the crest of his hip always pulled a moan from him. The younger turian let his mandibles fall loose as Saren scraped his talons over that spot.

“Ah~ mo… more… please.”

The biotic did as asked. He worked his talons against his hip crest and bit down again -this time on his shoulder. The force was bruising but despite his flinch, Garrus was enjoying it. He encouraged Saren with his subvocals and another roll of his hips, feeling his own plates begin to part, even without direct stimulation.

Saren’s hand travelled further down to trace the length of Garrus’ seam and his talented tongue found its way up to lick along his mandible. He bit it too, sending a jolt of mixed signals through Garrus. Before he could determine if he liked it or not, Saren was pulling away and rolling him over onto his stomach.

Garrus allowed himself to be pulled up enough for a pillow to be jammed under his hips. Saren then put his weight down across his back, his own erection having sprung from his plates while they were moving. It was hard and damp against the curve of his ass. Again, Saren pinned his hands down and he worked across his neck from the new angle, leaving harsh bites and soft licks across his shoulders and the nape of his neck under his fringe.

Shaking a little beneath Saren’s attention, Garrus arched into the touch. It felt _damn_ good. He knew Saren was leaving marks and couldn’t bring himself to care. It had been a while since they’d fucked like this. The last time had been... he wracked his brain for a moment and then settled on Noveria.

Before he could consider that fact too deeply, Garrus was snapped back to reality as questing fingers slid along the plates covering his entrance. He shuddered and pressed into the touch. The wave of pleasure at the gentle caress -so at odds with Saren’s forcefulness- made his eyes flutter shut. He cried out his lover’s name.

“Open for me, Garrus,” Saren demanded in a harsh whisper against the side of his head. His breath was warm and subvocals were just as pleading.

The pinned turian took a few steadying breaths and willed himself to relax, to open. Saren needed this, yes, but Garrus needed it too. He needed a grounding that only his partner could give him. He wanted to give himself over, needed to let go and get lost in Saren’s scent.

“I want you,” Garrus begged as Saren’s length brushed against his own between his legs. His hips jerked back as he tried to get more contact.

“You’re mine,” Saren told him as he lined up. His biotics flared and Garrus felt the pressure of them pushing him down into the mattress. It was almost like Saren had extra hands. When he finally started to thrust inward, the motion stole the breath from Garrus’ lungs. Talons gripped him by the hips hard enough to bruise and the first thrust hilted Saren’s length entirely.

Garrus’ back arched and his own talons dug into the blankets beneath him.

Time to catch his breath was short.

Saren’s weight descended over his back and one hand wrapped around his throat to pull him up. They were both on their knees, Saren buried inside of him and holding him tightly against his chest. His artificial hand controlled Garrus’ body and the thrusts he made were short, merely rolls of his hips. But the heat between them made even the smallest of motions intense.

When Saren applied pressure to his throat, he moaned. The vibration rolled through his chest and between them. His partner hummed in approval and tightened his grip, controlling his breath.

Garrus was feeling light-headed. His breaths came in small pants and his chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes fluttered shut as the edges started to grey. Saren let off for a brief second, letting him fill his lungs before clamping down again. They played that game a few more times until Garrus’s subvocals became a complete disaster.

Collapsing to the bed when Saren let go gave Garrus a few more seconds to chase his own orgasm. He heard his partner getting close as the pitch of his voice changed.

With more room to maneuver, Saren began thrusting in earnest. Plate smashing into plate echoed in their quarters above the sound of their voices. Neither were quiet. They couldn’t be. Not with the weight of the Reapers bearing down upon them. This was the only way either of them could find release.

And they did find it. Garrus came hard into the pillow without so much as a touch of Saren’s hand and Saren was dragged over the edge too by the tight heat enveloping him after a couple more thrusts. He collapsed across Garrus’ back, his breaths coming in great, greedy gasps.

After a few moments, Garrus felt him soften and pull out. He whined for the loss. Saren fell onto his side and pulled Garrus into his chest, an apologetic rumble leaving his chest. They grew quiet until their hearts stopped racing quite so fast.

“Are you all right?” Saren murmured into his shoulder before he propped himself up on an elbow to look down at him.

“Mmhmm,” Garrus mumbled back, too tired for words just yet. He was quite content to study the insides of his eyelids for a few more minutes. His… _everything…_ hurt but not in a bad way.

He felt Saren’s tongue trace a line across his throat and it brought out a shameless moan of approval. Garrus tilted his head away to give him room. His partner was gentle now, everything from the way his talons traced the new scrapes on his hide to how his tongue cleaned off the small trails of blood that remained. Saren was so careful with him now, as though he was fragile and might break.

Eventually, Saren rolled Garrus onto his back and only then did he open his eyes. The biotic was watching his face as he loomed above him. Garrus let his mandibles fall loose, into a relaxed smirk, and he pulled Saren down with one hand around the back of his head.

Their crests touched and Garrus let out a pleased little sigh. “Feel better?” he asked.

Saren merely hummed in response, nuzzling his crest and dropping back down into the nest beside him. Before long, he was asleep and his snoozing purr dragged Garrus into a dreamless slumber alongside him. Whatever happened outside these four walls didn’t matter, as long as they had one another, they could make it through.

+-+-+

When morning came, Saren found himself wrapped within his lover’s arms. His back was flush against Garrus’ chest and the younger turian’s face was pressed against the underside of his fringe. He opened his eyes to the darkened room, allowing them to adjust to the starlight. His mouth still tasted of copper and his nasal ridges shifted as they took in the lingering scent of sex.

They’d gone at it hard.

Saren checked his omnitool, it was an hour earlier than he usually rose but he felt the need to rise. He moved carefully, freeing himself from the tight hold over the course of a few minutes. Garrus made a discontented noise and shifted into the warm space in the nest but did not wake. Watching him for a moment, Saren felt his mandibles slide into a small, warm smile. The expression was soft, so unlike those usually adorning his plates.

For the moment, his head remained silent. But he knew that would not last forever.

Stepping away from the bed, he wrapped his warm, black robe over his shoulders and then settled down in his desk chair. A few short taps against the haptic keyboard opened his personal terminal and a messaging program. A heavy sigh fell from his maw as he stared at the blank page before him.

Now was the time to act, while his mind was still his own.

The first few sentences flowed from the tips of his talons easily. He’d written this letter inside his mind repeatedly. But when he finished the introduction, his hands came to a halt. The words stopped just as water does when it comes to a dam.

Saren closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his cool metal fingers against the bridge of his nose and across his crest. Avitus deserved to know the whole truth if this letter even managed to find him a galaxy and several lifetimes away. He huffed and reopened his eyes, managing to type out another paragraph before stopping.

This time, his gaze shifted to the sleeping turian behind him. Garrus’ purr had evened out and he’d nuzzled into one of the sleep-warmed pillows. Like this, he appeared so young. Gone were the cracks of stress and the tension around his eyes. No tension rested in the set of his mandibles and his body was loose. He was free.

Saren knew that once he woke, the young face would be gone.

It was more than Saren felt he deserved to see him like this. When he was lying to him, saying there was nothing wrong when he’d heard…. Saren cut himself off, stopping the spiral before it could fully manifest itself. He set his talons to the keys and continued typing.

He fit all he could into words: _Sovereign’s_ influence, Nihlus’ death, the atrocities on Feros, Noveria, and Virmire, the battle of the Citadel, his incarceration and escape, this new mission, and… and Garrus. Avitus may not comprehend all the rest but he would understand Garrus. He had Macen at his side when they left for Andromeda.

Once he was caught up to the present day, Saren paused one final time. A deep breath inward felt more akin to ice crystals prickling his throat than warm shipboard oxygen. His hands trembled as he added a final sentence.

_// I am hearing them again. //_

Saren let out the air and shivered as he hit the command to encrypt his message. It was done.

The coding required a cypher which he only used with Avitus. Nihlus had had his own, too, which was now lost to the galaxy after his death. No one would be able to break the coding without tens of thousands of hours. It would be enough to keep the letter safe for a six-hundred-year journey across the cosmos.

Behind him, the sleeping rumble came to an end and Saren heard Garrus rise from his blanket cocoon. The other turian said nothing as he crossed the metre or so gap between the bed and the desk. His arms wrapped around Saren’s shoulders and his crest went to Saren’s shoulder.

Garrus’ warmth transferred through the robe, causing the tension to release from Saren’s back. Damp breath on his neck and quiet words, “Come back to bed,” caused him to shiver for entirely different reasons. Saren acquiesced and allowed himself to be returned to sleep-warmed blankets and the comfort of Garrus’ arms.

While the other turian returned to his slumber quickly, Saren remained awake to watch him a while longer, one hand caressing his fringe and the other propping himself up on an elbow. Their time was fleeting. Soon enough they’d make their assault and likely perish. Whatever else happened, Saren would enjoy any moments they had left.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  Saren watched the skies for a long time. As he’d done a few times with Desolas when he was a child. Stargazing: As close to the Spirits as you could get before joining with them.
> 
> His resolve to protect the galaxy grew stronger that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Saliva - Unshatter Me**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVMWZVsRgRg)
> 
> Newly Posted Companion Story: [**Carnality and Consideration**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529927)
> 
> NSFW at the end of the chapter. To skip, stop reading at -Saren didn’t know who started it.- and resume at -Collapsing at Garrus’ side,-.

11 - Faults and Fortitude

\- - -

Stepping off the cramped shuttle and into clean morning air felt like coming home. Garrus had been raised on Palaven and despite living on ships and stations for the better part of the last ten years, fresh atmosphere always felt right. There was something about tasting the breeze and having the warmth of a sun on your plates that just couldn’t be replicated, even by the Citadel’s technology.

Behind him, everyone else was filing off the skiff. All fourteen members of the ground team, including Shepard, had been brought out for one last hurrah. It was perhaps the first time everyone was together as a team at once. They’d been paired off in smaller groups but never as one unit. Shepard’s plan today was to correct that.

Garrus’ mandibles flicked into a knowing grin, as this had been half his idea, too. Today they’d be running a few drills and, after nightfall, they’d camp and have a couple of drinks around a bonfire. It sounded like the perfect send-off, just in case someone- or all of them- didn’t make it back from the Collector base.

The weather on Tiptree was lovely and warm. Most of the crew had stripped down to their workout clothing when they’d arrived, Tali exempt of course.

Garrus was so focused on the cloudless horizon that he didn’t notice Jack come up beside him until she shoulder-checked him. Garrus stumbled and knocked into Saren, the elder male righted him and then glared at them both, unamused.

“What was that for?” Garrus grumbled playfully, rubbing his bare arm.

“Checking to see if you were awake, birdy,” Jack chuckled as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Apparently not.”

Tali stepped up on Jack’s other side, her purple eyes going wide as she looked out at the crystal clear lake in front of them. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed before taking a few more steps toward the water.

“Going to be good swimming later,” Jack agreed with a nod, leaving the turians behind as she slung an arm over the quarian’s shoulders. “Can you swim in the suit?”

“I think I’d sink….” Tali lamented.

The human turned back around, grinning from ear-to-ear. “How about you boys, up for a dip?”

“No, thanks.” Garrus recoiled, his hands rising to ward her off while, beside him, Saren simply flicked his crest in a negative and walked off to collect his gear.

With a final deep inhale, Garrus too turned away from the lake. Around them was a large, grassy field with rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Trees dotted the landscape in bursts with shrubs and rocks. A forest with large conifer trees stood a half-kilometre to the west. EDI had scoped out the spot for them far away from the human colony to the north. If Garrus remembered correctly, Jeff’s family lived there. Perhaps after the IFF tests, he’d manage a quick visit before they hit the relay.

“All right, everyone!” Shepard called for their attention. “Form up on me, let’s get this party started!”

+-+-+-+

The afternoon was split up into a number of group tasks ranging from range practice to team building exercises. Where a portion of the day was more serious with group members pairing up and practicing with unfamiliar weapon complements, a fair amount of time was spent on more frivolous tasks. The goal being teamwork rather than skills development.

Shepard called one of the items a ‘human’ knot. Garrus had to admit watching the mismatched group all join hands and untangle from one another had to have been one of the funniest things he’d ever seen, Saren’s growl as Jacob stepped on his foot, notwithstanding.

The final goal for the day was to have the entire group get across the lake without anyone falling into the water. Normal biotic tactics alone wouldn’t work due to the size of the lake and not a single one of them could manage it alone. The task was meant to encourage the team to work as one. In the end everyone, with the exception of Saren, Garrus noted with an amused smirk, got at least a little damp. They did succeed, but it was mostly stubborn determination that did it rather than any sort of finesse.

Once the camp was set up, Shepard dismissed the team to relax and socialize. Some of the group stuck around to collect firewood, while the rest made a beeline for the lake. Those who took the time to rest now would make dinner or do some other menial chore later on in the evening.

Garrus joined up with Grunt and Mordin. Together, getting the fire set was their job.

Mordin busied himself with collecting tinder and other easy burnables, leaving the other two to the larger work. A couple trips back and forth to the woods had a massive pile growing, as tall as Garrus was and just as long if he laid down.

It wasn’t until they were nearly finished that a scream from the direction of the lake made Garrus stop and whip around toward the noise. He dropped the firewood he was carrying as his hand automatically went for the pistol resting on his hip. Before he could pull it, however, he realized his mistake. Everything was fine… well _mostly_ fine. Jack had pulled Miranda into the lake with her biotics, soaking her clothes and her hair.

He stifled a snort with his mandibles pinching into his maxilla as he watched the usually stoic operative throw a giant wave at Jack, tumbling her over into the deeper end of the lake. Shepard and Jacob were already moving to intervene before the fight got any worse than splashing one another and Garrus set about picking up the pile of logs he’d dropped.

As he picked up the branches, his mind rushed back to something his mother had told him years ago. “You’re still at war,” she’d say as she tapped her crest to his. When he was a fledgling, she’d say those same words to his father and he never understood what it meant. After his first tour with _Hastatim,_ his mother had started using the phrase on him. Still, the meaning was mostly lost to the wind.

It wasn’t until now, as Garrus stood in the middle of a field surrounded by people he trusted that the words finally carried meaning. Even knowing he was safe, Garrus had reached for his gun first. He was still at war and had been for _years._ Once this was over, perhaps it was time he learned how to come home.

Once his arms were full once again, he headed for the camp and dropped his armload into the pile. They had enough to keep a decent fire going for a few hours.

Deciding that one more load would do it, he turned back toward the forested area only to see Grunt pulling an entire tree behind him. Once again, his mandibles shifted into a grin and he crossed his arms over his chest while waiting for Grunt to finish pulling the conifer back.

“I think we’re good,” Garrus told him.

“Heh. Now-” Grunt panted. “-Now we are!” The tree’s trunk must have been almost a half-metre in diameter and nearly ten metres tall. It’d take forever to burn.

At least they would have someplace to sit now. Garrus chuckled to himself and pulled out his omni-blade. “Looks like we’ve got some work ahead of us, Grunt.”

The krogan headed for the toolkit, fetching the manual axe. “Bet I can still chop it up faster than you, turian!”

“You’re on.”

+-+-+-+

Once the tree was broken down into suitably sized logs, Garrus dropped to the ground and used one of them as a backrest to look up at the sky. The sun had just begun to set, creating a glorious backdrop in orange and purple hues against the few cumulus clouds that had begun to appear late in the day. He closed his eyes, taking in long and deep breaths of the slowly cooling air for what might be the last time.

Beside him, Mordin continued working to build up the fire, humming to himself as he worked. Beyond them, at the lake, he could hear Grunt splashing into the shallows. If not for the deep, rumbling bass, it could almost be described as childlike laughter and it made his mandibles fall loosely into an easy smile. Today had been a good day.

A perfect send off.

Garrus let himself drift. By the time the heard footsteps and opened his eyes the sun was barely a sliver above the horizon. The crew was returning to change into warmer clothes and prepare for dinner. Garrus joined Saren, getting into a warm sweater, pants and boots. Saren did the same, looking so much younger and less severe in a hoodie.

While Saren, Zaeed, and Kasumi began working on dinner, Shepard approached Garrus.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged, single-armed and his mandible tilted out in a sly smile. “Not like I can hide behind calibrations down here.”

Shepard nodded toward the lake, away from the rest of the crew. Garrus followed him, waving off Saren’s skeptical brow raise at his departure. There could be a thousand things Shepard wanted to discuss, any number of them calling for privacy. Only once they were well out of earshot and only a light drone could be heard from the crew sitting around the start of a fire, did Shepard tilt his head to look up at him while they walked.

He cleared his throat. “Garrus, I want you to know how much your friendship means to me and I’m only asking this because I value our relationship and I really hope this isn’t going to damage that.”

Garrus inclined his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at the human. The words didn’t sound like his own, it was as though they were rehearsed from some psychology book. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Shepard. What’s up?”

“I want to talk about you and Saren.”

He stopped in his tracks, his shoulders going rigid and his teeth clamping together. This wasn’t the first time Shepard had expressed concerns. He’d done it on the SR-1, too. This time, however, Garrus wasn’t going to brush him off. If Shepard wanted to know, he was going to tell him exactly how it was.

+-+-+-+

Dinner was already underway by the time Saren noticed Garrus reappear. While the camp was well-lit the surrounding area had darkened, the sun’s disc was fully beneath the horizon. He watched Garrus portion out his meal from the ration containers. The sauce splattered as it hit the rimmed plate and Garrus sighed, some of the tension falling out of his shoulders as he wiped it up with a spare napkin from the pile.

After a few moments, he joined Saren beside the fire. Garrus stared at his food for a moment, almost disinterested before picking up one of the meat slices with his fingers and swallowing it whole. He soon went for a second and then a third.

“Thanks,” he mumbled around more food. His subvocals dipped into a deeper range, noting his appreciation for the meal.

Saren didn’t answer. Instead, his attention was on Shepard who had just returned from the darkness as well. Where Garrus appeared annoyed, Shepard was… Saren wanted to say embarrassed. His cheeks were flushed when he glanced over at the pair of turians and he quickly looked away. Saren turned back to his partner.

“You don’t want to know,” Garrus said before he could utter a word.

The biotic blinked a few times and scratched at his mandible. “Are you certain?”

Garrus laughed, the rest of the tightness dropping out of him as he looked up from his food and smirked knowingly at Saren. “I’m sure.”

Saren nodded. He’d inquire again later. When they were alone, perhaps.

Once everyone was finished eating, Mordin stoked the fire. He built it high enough to force the softer-skinned species further back from the flames. Personally, Saren enjoyed it. It had been a lifetime since he’d been outside like this. Taking a moment to consider it, the last time would have been during Nihlus’ survival training.

Sitting beside Garrus and sharing his warmth against the cooling night air was enough. Above them, the stars shone at full brightness without a cloud in the sky. If they walked away from the fire and other light sources in the camp they’d be able to see the Milky Way spread out before them in all its glory. Later, he’d have to test that theory and take that walk.

For the moment, however, he was… content to remain in the warmth.

Since the Reaper at Mnemosyne, he’d heard the whispers twice more. It only happened when he was completely alone, like some cruel joke to prove to him that it wasn’t a hallucination. When he was with anyone else, even those he wasn’t entirely familiar with like Goto and Krios today, his head was blissfully quiet.

Even now, as they sat listening to Massani tell some long, drawn-out story from his apparent ‘glory days’, the voices kept clear. It helped ease any lingering fears that he was slipping too quickly. Saren was confident he could keep the Reapers at bay.

Garrus reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing gently and holding it in his own. Saren found his eyes drawn to their talons, when he looked up Garrus was smiling and still watching the human mercenary as though nothing had changed. As far as public displays of affection went, it was fairly minor. But Saren glanced around the circle and caught Shepard watching them. Instead of looking away, the Spectre met his eyes. He said nothing, only nodded and then turned back to Massani’s tale.

He felt Garrus’ talons tighten around his fingers before he slid in close, speaking in a low husky tone that only Saren was close enough to hear. “Want to get out of here for a few minutes?”

Saren couldn’t think of a reason to object.

Rising, he pulled Garrus up behind him. They both dropped off their plates before heading into the darkness together. Saren almost thought no one noticed them leave as Massani was just finishing off his story with the habitual ‘and I was the only one who made it out alive!’ But Jack’s voice cut through the air: “At least someone’s getting laid tonight!”

While Garrus snorted and his shoulders shook with mirth, Saren growled his annoyance and that only made Garrus actually laugh out loud. “She’s not wrong,” the sniper whispered quietly as he squeezed Saren’s talons in his own.

The biotic looked over at him, his eyes grew accustomed to the moon and starlight quickly enough to catch the reflection of the fire in Garrus’ eyes. “Oh?”

His teeth flashed. “If you can catch me, that is….”

Without waiting for Saren’s response, he took off at a sprint and headed for the forest. Saren blinked again, watching him for a moment before he heard Jack yell once again. “Get after him, birdy!”

He was glad of the darkness because it meant no one else saw his mandibles fall into a grin as he gave chase. Oh, he would catch Garrus. Of that, he was certain.

+-+-+-+

The party went on well into the night, after Saren and Garrus’ little foray in the woods they’d returned to find the crew had started in on another round of drinks. Thankfully, there were more than enough to go around and everyone who wished to be was well-liquored by the time squad members started dropping off to sleep.

One by one, they disappeared to bedrolls spread out across the camp. Grunt fell asleep in a heap by the fire and was covered with a blanket by Tali, who seemed to take it upon herself to take care of everyone in her tipsy state. Thane volunteered to take first watch. Massani drank Jacob under the proverbial table and was still going strong at his whiskey.

By all accounts, even Saren’s, it was a good night.

Saren dozed beside Garrus that night, under the stars and with the fire crackling a few metres away. While his partner went into a dead sleep, he only drifted. It was enough having the warmth of Garrus against his chest and his smoke-enhanced scent pressed against his nasal plates.

The forest was alight with small insects, buzzing about their business, and as the fire darkened to embers the galaxy came out before him. Rolling onto his back, he took in the view. It was breathtaking. Saren watched the skies for a long time. As he’d done a few times with Desolas when he was a child. Stargazing: As close to the Spirits as you could get before joining with them.

His resolve to protect the galaxy grew stronger that night.

Trillions of people lived amongst these stars. As a Spectre, he’d sworn to protect them and due to his own misguided judgment, he’d nearly failed them once before. Saren would not make the same mistake again. Even if he didn’t truly understand why he felt so strongly for a galaxy that didn’t seem to care about him in return. He would succeed. He had to. The weight of Garrus beside him and the pursuit of more nights like this was enough of a reason as any other.

He rolled back onto his side, nuzzling into Garrus’ shoulder and shutting his eyes. If they managed to survive their mission as well as accomplish their goals, then Saren knew he’d need to tell Garrus about the voices. He’d figure that out as soon as they were in a safe harbour. His partner would help him through it, just as he’d helped him all along the way.

+-+-+-+

It wasn’t until the grass became dewy around the sleeping _Normandy_ crew and the skies began to lighten that something went horribly wrong. All at once, they were woken by blaring omnitool alarms. Far too many of them went for weapons before their eyes had fully opened.

A chorus of _what the fuck was that,_ and _who the fuck?_ Sounded off from a few squad members before they realized it was their own ‘tools.

Saren checked his own, the words on the screen made his stomach drop.

//

_[From: EDI - Location: Normandy SR-2]_

_[To: Ghost702 - Location: Tiptree]_

_[Subject: MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY]_

_Normandy was under siege by the Collectors. Crew abducted. Maintaining orbit at the rendezvous point. Ship vented, Collectors are gone. Requesting immediate assistance._

_[End Message Text]_

//

By the time he’d read through the message a second time, Shepard was already yelling for everyone to get on the Kodiak. “If it’s not vital, leave it! Get on the shuttle!” Saren had never seen the ground team move as fast as they did now, grabbing for their weapons and heading for the vehicle before the first rays of sun began to scrape the horizon.

Packed into the small vessel, with all of the seats taken and half of the squad standing, holding onto the handrails, the very air was tense around them. Miranda and Jacob sat at the shuttle’s controls. Tali and Garrus were busy on their omni-tools, attempting, Saren assumed, to get more information from EDI. Jack was sitting beside Shepard, her mouth solidly shut and her eyes hard as she stared at the floor. But her gaze was nothing compared to the Spectre’s.

No doubt, he was blaming himself.

Saren spent the shuttle ride watching his face. Once, it looked like he was going to address the crew but he decided against it. The human was beyond anger as the team filed off the Kodiak into the _Normandy’s_ shuttle bay. His brow was pinched and his spine was visibly tight through the loose jacket he wore. He hadn’t even taken enough time to do up the clasps.

“Split up!” he shouted, pulling his pistol and making way for the elevator. “Miranda, Garrus - with me. The rest of you, team up and search the ship. I don’t want any surprises.”

A chorus of _yessirs_ echoed off the metal walls and as soon as the door closed behind the Spectre and his chosen squad, the rest followed suit and teamed up. Saren had Jack and Tali with him as they scoured engineering.

Marks on the walls leant evidence to gunfire. The crew had fought back.

A disintegrated Collector corpse was in the hallway leading to Massani’s room. Bloody handprints painted one of the engineering consoles. Tali’Zorah gasped at the sight of them and Jack held her while Saren finished checking the underdeck.

As EDI’s message had indicated, the ship was clear.

 _“All hands,”_ it was the pilot’s voice that came over the speakers, surprising all three of them. Apparently, at least one member of the crew managed to survive the attack. _“Shepard’s requested everyone meet up in the briefing room.”_

“Shit,” Jack said as she clicked her comm unit on, a smile spreading across her face. “Joker, you’re still kicking?”

 _“And screaming,”_ Morceau replied. There was a hint of humour in his voice, obviously, he’d picked up on Jack’s expression, but underneath it was a layer of something else. Saren knew it to be guilt, for that was something he was all too familiar with.

“Come on Tali,” Jack tilted her head to the exit. “Let’s go see how many bones he’s got left, alright?”

+-+-+-+

After the meeting, Shepard dismissed everyone to their duties. They were going to chase after the Collectors. Time had run out.

It was an hour later, after Saren had returned to his quarters to make preparations, that the AI chimed his name.

 _“Arterius,”_ EDI’s voice disrupted him mid-sentence while he was reading over reports. He marked his place and looked up from the datapad, humming for the AI to speak. _“Commander Shepard has requested your presence in his quarters.”_

“Now?”

_“Correct. How would you like to respond?”_

Sighing, he rose from the couch and stretched out his neck. Saren was curious what the human wanted with him. Not once since joining the _Normandy_ had he been asked to the Captain’s quarters. And on the eve of their mission to the Collector base, it couldn’t be anything good. “I’m on my way.”

_“Understood, Arterius. Logging you out.”_

Saren slid his arms into a loose black robe and headed for the door. While his and Garrus’ quarters were kept pleasantly warm, the rest of the ship was cooler. The lift waited for him when he arrived and brought him slowly upward to the deck labelled ‘Loft’.

A small entryway met him, with a standard frigate hatch. The lock was green but he still pinged the room on the call unit when he stopped outside. He hadn’t seen Shepard since the briefing. The human had sequestered himself in his quarters.

“Come in,” Shepard’s voice met him as the door began to slide open. As did the aroma of freshly brewed kava. It was… unexpected.

Stepping inside, he gave the room a cursory glance. It was larger than his own quarters, with both a raised office space and what he guessed was a lavatory, as well as a lower area with seating, another desk, and a bed. Both desks were strewn with datapads and more than one empty mug. A frame held the image of Doctor T’Soni on his nightside table by the bed. The room appeared lived-in without being a sty. Along the left wall, there was a fish tank, which gave him a moment’s pause.

“Confused me at first, too,” Shepard said. Saren blinked and turned to look at the human sitting on the lower level on one side of an L-shaped couch with his back to the right wall. “It’s sort of calming, once you get used to it.”

Saren hummed and moved to the top of the short set of stairs. “You requested my presence?”

“Have a seat.” Shepard gestured to the open space on the couch. “I asked Tali to make the kava. You don’t need to rely on my culinary ineptitude.”

Walking down the steps, Saren looked at the steaming liquid. It smelled right at the least. He sat down and picked up the offering, inhaling the warmth before taking a small sip. The taste was fine as well. Though, why Shepard had gone through the effort was unclear.

“I have a confession to make,” Shepard told him as he leaned forward to put his coffee down on the table. When he sat back, he raised one leg to rest his ankle on his opposing knee. His arms crossed over his chest, displaying his discomfort. “I didn’t trust you on the Reaper.”

Saren scoffed. “You say that as if it is a secret, Shepard.”

“I’m not done,” he said. Saren inclined his crest and waited for him to continue while taking a second sip of the kava. “I should have trusted you. You were right to say you should be on the ground team. You’ve been demonstrating that I can trust you since the day you stepped foot on this ship. I want to apologize.”

Slowly, Saren brought the mug away from his mouth. He managed to keep the bewilderment off his plates but internally he reeled. Never having expected… _that._ “Pardon?”

A small smile spread on Shepard’s lips. He dropped his foot to the ground and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together in between them. “I was wrong. You’ve proved yourself more than once. I just didn’t want to listen.”

“What brought _this_ on?”

“I talked to Garrus yesterday. Before the bonfire,” he explained. A red flush began to bloom across his face and the human looked beyond him at the fish tank for a moment until the flush passed. “I expressed my… _concerns_ about your relationship.”

Saren’s mandible raised in a snarl.

And much to his surprise, Shepard smirked and shook his head. “Garrus had the same reaction.” He sat up straight and looked Saren right in the eyes. “I’m trying to wrap my head around your relationship. It’s different from how humans partner off.”

“We are different species, Shepard,” Saren reminded him.

He nodded. “I know. Garrus explained it to me in clearer terms. The subvocal cues and safewords and how specific conditions need to be met for a turian to-uh... ‘unplate’ was the... word he used.” Saren could all but hear the makings of that awkward conversation. It would appear that the mere memory was enough to cause another tinge of red to bloom across the human’s cheeks. Shepard cleared his throat. “I was wrong about you.”

There was a sense of tightness beneath his keel that ebbed away at the human’s words. One that Saren hadn’t realized was there. He sat silently, waiting to see if Shepard had more to say.

“Are you serious about him?” Shepard asked as he reached for his coffee again and leaned back into the couch. The urgency was gone from his tone. Now, it was more relaxed and conversational, as if the human had passed a hurdle in the conversation.

Saren tilted his head to the side, considering the question while he slid a talon along the side of his kava. “As serious as one can be while on a suicide mission.”

Blowing out a puff of air, Shepard brought his mug up to his lips to hide his smile. “And if we survive?”

He blinked. That was an outcome Saren hadn’t wanted to consider. Reapers aside, there was also the matter of his conviction. “I am… not certain what will come of me if we survive. As you told Vasir, my release is under your Spectre Authority.”

Shepard stiffened like a varren who’d just heard rustling leaves. It was as though the human did not realize the power he held over Saren’s freedom. The mug lowered to balance on his knee, his knuckles growing white around the metal.

“You’re not a prisoner here, Saren.”

“Am I free to leave?”

The biotic waited for Shepard to come to terms with his words. He could be patient. Watching him realize the answer in his own mind first was slow. He watched the bulge in his throat rise and fall as he swallowed. His eyes softened and his mouth parted but no words fell.

Saren filled the silence.

“I was aware of my circumstances when you offered a place on your ship, Shepard. My options were minimal.” Saren stood, placing the half-empty mug down on the table. “For what it is worth this mission is more than I expected the rest of my life to become. I expected to die. You have given me a chance to redeem myself.”

He left Shepard with his mouth fallen open and his shoulders gone lax. There was no further reason to remain. Turning, he walked up the three short steps and out the door. He waited in silence after calling the lift.

As the door opened in front of him, so did the one behind him. Saren looked over his shoulder, his face impassive, waiting a moment to see if the human had anything to say.

“If we survive this,” Shepard began. His tone was determined and serious. “I’ll find a way to get you your freedom.”

An empty promise. If- no. _When_ the Council caught wind that he was alive they would never stand for him disappearing. Freedom was not running for the rest of his life. Yet Saren felt the need to acknowledge the sentiment. He nodded once and stepped into the elevator.

“I mean it,” Shepard insisted as he crossed the space reaching out his hand to stop the lift door from closing. “You’re part of my crew. I won’t let the Council torture you again.”

Saren sighed, one hand rising to run through the blades of his fringe. He was… grateful for this change of heart. Perhaps it was unwarranted. Perhaps he did not deserve it, especially with the voices nagging inside his head. Regardless, it was faith that he didn’t know he needed. Garrus could banish the whispers, real or imagined, and Shepard could grant him freedom.

This idea of ‘hope’ the others talked about was rubbing off on him. Yet, his more rational mind balked at the optimism. How long would it be before his mind wasn't his own? What if, in time, not even Garrus’ influence was enough to keep the whispers at bay? What if those he swore to protect ultimately suffered for his illusions of freedom?

Under Reaper control, ideas of liberation were simply that. Like talons clawing for purchase on a crumbling ledge.

Looking at Shepard, Saren banished his tumultuous thoughts and replied with the only thing he could: “As you humans say: we will cross that bridge if we come to it.”

+-+-+-+

Returning to his quarters, Saren wasn’t surprised to see Garrus waiting for him. It was getting late. As he entered the room, his partner was seated in what had become his place on the couch, with his back to the door. The same space he’d occupied the first time he came to visit.

Garrus didn’t need to look up to know who it was that approached behind him.

Saren walked deeper into their room and placed a hand on the back of the couch, looking over his partner’s shoulder to see him staring blankly at a datapad that he held loose in his palm. He hadn’t meant to read the words, but curiosity got the better of him when he caught Garrus’ anxiety-ridden warble.

Only the last few lines of what was obviously a deep conversation were visible.

_//_

_22:26: S: Go have your fun doing merc work or screwing around or whatever. Just don't act like you care._

_22:30: G: You're right, Sol. I'm sorry._

_22:32: S: No, I'm sorry. Things are rough with Mom. The salarians are expensive as hell._

_22:33: G: I wish I could help._

_22:35: G: I'm going on a trip. Might be away from the relays for a while._

_22:35: S: Another pleasure cruise?_

_22:36: G: You know me._

_22:38: S: Send me something nice._

_22:38: G: I'll be in touch when I can._

_//_

The screen winked out without Garrus touching it. He must have been staring for a handful of minutes for it to hibernate on him. Saren rounded the couch and sat down beside his partner without saying a word. He didn’t know what _to_ say.

While they had gotten close in the past months, they hadn’t seriously discussed Garrus’ family life. Saren could only assume the messages were referring to his sister, Solana, with the initial ‘S’ and talking about ‘mom’. From the tone, Garrus hadn’t explained what he was doing on the _Normandy._ He had to stop himself from scoffing as he’d considered the insult. _Mercenary work,_ indeed.

Though, what truly confused him was the mention of salarians. What would they have to do with anything? Garrus’ clan lived on Palaven. And with regards to them being _expensive as hell,_ Saren wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Credits weren’t something they’d discussed either. Vakarian was an old name, a respected clan, and Castis- at the least- had served his full term. Finances shouldn’t have been an issue for them.

Silence prevailed for a while as Saren considered the many factors mentioned in such a short amount of text. He wanted to ask… to know what could be done.

His gaze drifted to the viewport. The stars remained stationary even as the ship’s mass effect fields flashed around them, bathing the room in an eerie blue light. They were speeding along toward their fate and whatever had just transpired on the datapad wouldn’t matter if they did not succeed.

Just when Saren thought that he might have found a way to break the tension, he felt Garrus shift. The younger turian leaned into him, dropping his head to his shoulder. Saren felt him inhale and then release a long breath.

Saren adjusted his arm to wrap around Garrus’ shoulders, taking his weight and letting his own crest rest on top of Garrus’. He took the datapad away, placed it down on his other side and out of easy reach. Some of the tightness dropped out of his partner and he released the breath he was holding deep in his lungs.

“Thank you,” Garrus whispered, nuzzling deeper into his shoulder.

“I did not do anything,” Saren told him, not quite understanding what he was being thanked for.

But Garrus didn’t seem to care. Saren could feel a mandible shift against his shoulder, moving into a smirk. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked carefully, not quite certain of himself at that moment.

Garrus shook his head and sat up a little higher, looking Saren in the eyes. “No, it’s alright. I… I didn’t want to go through the relay before talking to Sol one more time. This could be it.”

A soft, affirmation echoed from Saren’s chest. “It very well may be.”

“There’s no backing down now,” Garrus agreed. “There are too many people depending on us. How… how did you deal with it? As a Spectre?”

Saren blinked, his gaze dropping to stare off into the middle distance. “I’ve never been asked that question before,” he said. Neither Nihlus nor Avitus had ever asked. He’d never spoken to Desolas or Tela about it either. He’d just… dealt with it. “I suppose I pushed the thought away to deal with after the fact. Just… later.”

Looking up, he caught Garrus watching him intently. “When does ‘later’ happen?”

A part of him wanted to say ‘never’ and be done with the conversation. Instead, Saren found himself continuing with: “While I was incarcerated I had a lot of time to reflect. ‘Later’ comes when you allow it to.”

Saren swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. ‘Later’ might be coming now, too. But Garrus didn’t quite allow it to come down on him all at once. He moved softly to sit astride Saren’s hips.

His crest came down to press against Saren’s and his eyes fell closed as he took a shaky breath. “I just…” he began before cutting off. Saren hummed an encouraging note and pressed his crest into Garrus’ and he started again. “I’ve seen so many things go wrong, Saren. My work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis…. I want something to go right. Just once.”

Bringing his real hand up, Saren clasped Garrus’ face.

Without his say-so, words fell into the air between them. They were so quiet, Saren was barely certain that the other turian would even hear him. “You are the only thing that has gone right for me in a long time, Garrus.”

Saren’s subvocals were so thick with emotion that the air seemed to vibrate around them. He… he wasn’t good at this. At allowing ‘later’ to finally come. Usually, it would have swallowed him whole but with Garrus there, it somehow didn't.

He could breathe.

Above him, Garrus’ voice melded with his own. Singing the happiness that could only come from a turian in love. All his life, Saren had never thought he’d find a partner. As a biotic, he was an outcast. He was without clan or paint. He was a Spectre turned traitor. Unloveable, by all accounts.

Yet, this turian… loved him.

Saren didn’t know who started it. If it was his hands or Garrus’. But they were soon bared to the waist. The ashy, gray fabric of Garrus’ robe pooled on the floor behind him. Saren’s own black one was pushed off and down into the cushions. By now, they knew just how to touch each other to entice and drag forth deep vibrating sounds from one another’s throats.

He… he wanted to say something back. He wanted to tell Garrus that he felt the same way, but the younger turian’s tongue was insistent on his throat and his talons drew small white lines in his waist just the right way to ensure his mind blanked. Words would have to come… later.

Picking Garrus up around the backs of his thighs, Saren brought them to the bed. After settling him on the mattress, he wasted no time licking his way down the lithe body before him, stopping briefly at all the familiar places that he knew Garrus liked to be touched. Garrus’ hands encouraged him on, caressing his fringe, shoulders and neck. Garrus’ body tightened and loosened with each passing moment.

By the time Saren reached his slit, it was dripping.

A brief rasp of his tongue had his length springing forth, a loud gasp punctuating the act. Saren had to hold his partner’s hips to keep him stable while he toyed with the hard member and ensured he was ready for more.

When Saren flicked his gaze up, he found foggy, glacial-blue eyes watching him. Garrus’ chest rose and fell, his mandibles were loose, and his body was nearly quivered with anticipation. His tongue made an audible noise as it unstuck itself from the roof of his mouth.

“Ride me?” Garrus proposed.

Saren found himself nodding and climbing up Garrus’ body before his brain could catch up with the suggestion. It wasn’t often his partner asked for anything in bed, let alone to be the giver instead of the receiver. Beyond moaning for more, he was more willing to defer to Saren’s wants and preferences. Even when Garrus initiated sex, they’d end up where Saren maneuvered them more often than not.

Once he was settled, Garrus’ hand slipped between Saren’s legs to prepare him. His plates spread apart within a few minutes and he shuddered above Garrus as their lengths brushed against one another. He found himself rocking into the touch, creating friction wherever he could until Garrus pulled his hand away.

Saren stifled a whimper at the loss, solving the issue by taking hold of Garrus’ member and beginning to drop his weight down. Soon, he was hilted. Garrus moved slowly beneath him, his hands grasping Saren's hips helping to keep the motion rhythmic.

Above him, Saren placed his palms down on the wide expanse of Garrus’ chest, using his keel as a balance point. Sliding up and down became an easy pattern after a minute or two, riding as he’d been requested to and tearing moans from his partner.

As emotionally charged as the last hour had been, Saren found himself quick to come to completion. He barely needed Garrus’ soft touch, dragging the last ounces of pleasure out of the thrusts. Garrus took his time, allowing him to catch his breath before restarting a metered pace until he, too, found an end.

Collapsing at Garrus’ side, Saren found himself wrapped in his partner’s arms. The younger male’s chin rested above his crest and their legs intertwined beneath the sheets. He pulled the heavier blankets over them once the heat of sex began to leave them.

A twitch in Garrus’ leg let Saren know that he was dead asleep. For a while, he found himself unable to join his partner. Instead, he focused on the weight of Garrus’ arms and the cadence of his breaths. All of those things he'd imagined when he was alone and blind. Now, it was real.

He knew this might be the last time.

Saren’s whispered, _“I love you, too”_ was barely audible above the sleeping purr coming from deep within Garrus’ chest. But it was only after he’d finally, after years, uttered the words aloud that he was able to sleep.

 

\---

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [**Ponara-arts**](http://ponara-arts.tumblr.com/) drew casual Saren for me! Casual Garrus was also drawn by Ponara and added to chapter 9! 
> 
> <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  ‘Hope.’ Saren could have laughed at himself. What used to be such a foreign concept to him was now all he cared about. He wanted to live long enough to say those three words aloud to Garrus and that, he believed now, was worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Blacktop Mojo - Trouble on the Rise**](https://youtu.be/MStWZ8xL9Dw)

12 - Faults and Fortitude

+-+-+-+

With the _Normandy_ still mostly in one piece after traversing the Omega-four relay, the full ground team collected in the briefing room. The tension was not unlike the last time the crew stood there geared for a mission, before the Reaper in Mnemosyne’s orbit. It was not the same either. This time Saren noted there were worried glances exchanged between teammates he’d never expected to become close; an assassin and a Justicar to name just one.

Glancing at Garrus’ expression briefly, Saren could see the hard-won resolve. His Thanix cannon had torn through the Collector ship, bringing a proud, and all too satisfied, tilt to his mandibles. The look was handsome and helped steel Saren for what was to come.

Shepard stood at the table’s head. His palms flat on the surface and great, dark circles resting beneath his eyes. Saren doubted he’d slept much in the wake of his entire human crew being stolen away from him. After their talk last night, perhaps he was unable to settle on his own. Shepard’s partner, Doctor T’Soni, was still on Hagalaz as far as Saren knew.

Having Garrus present was a great help in bringing Saren peace before this final mission. The scent of him and the memory of his partner’s arms wrapped around him while he slept was burned into his mind. It brought the biotic a sense of calm he’d never expected to find. If this was the end, Saren was ready.

With the decision to have Tali’Zorah traverse the ventilation shaft to advance the rest of the team through the Collector base, there was one more decision to be made.

“The rest of us will break into two teams and fight down each passage,” Shepard said while raising one hand to move the holographic projection on the surface in front of them. “That should draw the Collectors’ attention away from what you’re doing.”

Lawson spoke up first, volunteering for the task just as Operative Taylor had done in the minutes before, attempting to take the vents. “I’ll lead the second fire team, Shepard. We’ll meet up with you on the other side of the doors.

“Not so fast, Cheerleader,” Jack sneered. “Nobody wants to take orders from you.” It was no secret the women weren’t friends, but she had a point, not everyone would follow her.

“This isn’t a popularity contest! Lives are at stake,” Lawson reminded her before looking to her Commander for a resolution. “Shepard - you need someone who can command loyalty through experience.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of the human’s mouth and he immediately turned to his right, where Garrus stood in silent vigil thus far. “Garrus - you’re in charge of the second team.”

Saren was pleased to see that his partner wasn’t surprised or hesitant. Garrus simply nodded in agreement and his arms moved into easy parade rest behind him.

“Well, at least he knows what he’s doing,” Lawson said as she leaned back into her hip and crossed her arms over her chest.

There was a touch of anger -or perhaps jealousy- in her words and Saren didn’t stifle his growl at her for doubting his partner. Garrus heard it and his good mandible slid into a smirk. Jack appeared to have noticed as well but instead of gloating, she just nodded to Garrus, showing her approval without another outburst.

Shepard cleared his throat, lapsing into a rousing speech. Saren didn’t particularly care to pay attention to the pep talk, he was too focused on memorizing the lines of Garrus’ face. He couldn't help himself. This would likely be the last time they’d see one another outside of combat. His pale eyes traced the cracks and scars in his plates, the sweep of his colony paint and the set of his mandibles. Saren moved onto his eyes last, only to find them waiting for him.

The end of the speech came too soon. “Let’s bring our people home.”

Saren was out of time.

+-+-+-+

Split into two teams, the _Normandy_ crew stormed the Collector base. The abominations swarmed their position from all sides as the teams fought through the constant waves. Saren was on Garrus’ larger team for the first leg of their journey. Shepard had taken Lawson and Legion with him to fight through the tighter pathway leading toward their goal.

Watching Garrus in command stirred up a sense of pride within Saren. His voice was strong and his aim true. He fought ferociously, protecting the squad as he shouted orders over the comm unit. There was no hesitation, he acted as professional as any Hierarchy commander while maintaining his sense of self.

_“Jack, shockwave to your eleven!”_

_“Scratch one!”_

_“Massani, cover the rear!”_

For Saren’s own part, he knew Garrus’ style well enough to know which targets he’d choose and thus he went for any others that came into range. His amp felt warm against the back of his neck by the time Tali’Zorah had managed to get through the first six blockades but it was bearable. When he needed to let it cool, one of the other biotics took over the heavy lifting.

At the last of the barricades, time almost ran out for their tech specialist. _“Hurry, Shepard,”_ Tali’Zorah called over the comms, her voice warbling with nervous energy. “ _It’s heating up in here!”_

 _“We’re coming, hold on Tali!”_ Shepard replied over the sound of heavy fighting. His team had been assaulted by _Harbinger_ itself, slowing them down to a crawl. The Reaper took control of the Collector abominations one at a time and made them more difficult to defeat with additional barrier tech and harder attacks. Just as it had done on Horizon.

While Garrus’ team made it to the rendezvous point, he ordered most of them to cover as he and Jack went for the vent hatch where the quarian waited for Shepard to release her. The console was on the Spectre’s side, they could do nothing from there but provide cover fire. After a half-minute, Saren caught sight of the door sliding open to release the shaking Tali’Zorah in his peripheral vision.

“I’ve got you,” Jack rushed to her side, skidding to a stop and keeping the small quarian upright as she threw another biotic attack with her free hand.

“Th-thanks,” Tali panted, holding onto the human for dear life.

Saren focused his attention on keeping the Collectors away from his friends. He threw a singularity field to protect them and nearly stumbled getting back into cover to reload as he realized he’d used the word ‘friend’ instead of squadmate. He shook his head, rising again to empty his new clip into the closest enemy.

Switching to his assault rifle, Garrus backed up toward the doors. “Look out, Seeker swarms!”

 _“We’re in position,”_ Shepard called over the comms. “We need this door open, now!”

Garrus glanced back to the door then yelled to Tali’Zorah and Jack beside him: “Go, we’ll cover you!”

As the pair ran for the door, one supporting the other, Saren moved out from behind his barrier to help Garrus cover them. Samara joined him and together they used their biotics to keep the swarm at bay.

“Something’s wrong! The door’s stuck!” Tali called out, warning them it was going to take longer than anticipated. Saren kept his attention focused on the barrier, keeping them safe as she sped through the hack. “Got it!”

Saren could hear the gunfire increase behind him as the doors screeched and opened to let Shepard’s group through. “Here they come!” Shepard yelled. “Fall back!”

“Suppressing fire! Don’t let anyone through!” Garrus ordered, taking charge of the rest of the team as the quarian worked to close the doors again behind them. It took just a few moments, but she did it. With the door shut and the entire team working to kill off the stragglers, silence wafted over the battlefield broken only by panted breaths and the familiar chink of new thermal clips being slotted into rifles.

“Nice work, Tali,” Shepard complimented, placing his hand on her shoulder before turning to the rest of the team. His head was held high, despite his heaving shoulders. “I knew I could count on you. All of you.”

“Shepard!” Lawson called out from further into the cavern. “You need to see this! Looks like one of the missing colonists.”

The Commander left Tali’Zorah with Jack and headed over. The rest of the team followed behind and as they rounded the corner, more than one of the squad stopped dead in their tracks. There were pods, like those they’d seen before on Horizon, but this time the people inside… they were alive. Shepard’s paces were slow as he approached the closest pod.

“There’s more,” Grunt shouted. “Over here!”

Just as the human’s fingers touched down on the surface, the woman inside started screeching bloody murder. “My god! She’s still alive!” Shepard tried to find a latch or some other way to open the pod but he was too late.

Saren’s gut roiled and his eyes widened to the size of saucers as the woman began to blacken and disintegrate, her skin almost seemed to burn away from her bones. He almost thought she was going to become a husk, like the humans thrown onto dragon’s teeth, but instead, she continued to scream as she was… liquified. His feet felt like they’d been glued to the ground and his mandibles fell loose.

He’d almost allowed the Reapers to succeed. To do… _this_ to everyone in the galaxy. Long before now, he’d known he was in the wrong. But to see the senselessness….

“Get them out of there!” Shepard’s voice called out, breaking him from his stupor. “Hurry!”

The squad had already sprung into action around him, tearing at the numerous pods with biotics and omni-blades before Shepard could even finish the order. Saren worked as fast as he could, ripping the lids off the pods and tossing them aside as if they weighed nothing.

In the end, Saren was the one to break the final pod open. The Doctor fell like all the others but instead of hitting the ground, he caught her. The woman had been kind to him, she’d helped him salvage his relationship with Garrus. It was the least he could do.

“Doctor Chakwas,” he greeted, his mandibles softening into an unseen smile beneath his helmet. “Are you well?”

“Saren?” The woman looked up at him, dazed and confused. Her eyes seemed to focus on his tinted visor for a moment before sliding across the circle of people gathering around her. “You... you came for us.”

Shepard approached from the side and helped her to stand on her own. The panic in Shepard's voice ebbed at her words and slowly increasing wakefulness. Shepard’s face relaxed into a small smile as he reassured her. “No one gets left behind.”

“Thank god you got here in time,” the Yeoman said, hugging herself with both arms crossed over her abdomen and seemingly on the verge of tears. “A few more seconds and... I don’t even want to think about it.”

“The colonists were-” Chakwas paused, almost like she was swallowing down sickness before finishing. “-Processed. Those swarms of little robots, they-- melted their bodies into grey liquid and pumped it through these tubes.”

Shepard narrowed his eyes, looking up at Saren as he asked: “Why are they doing this? What are they doing with human genetic material?”

“I do not know, Shepard,” Saren told him honestly, waving Garrus off as he approached. _“Sovereign_ never used organics for anything other than husks and pawns.”

A slow breath left Shepard’s lungs, enough that a second of static passed over the microphone. He shook his head and looked around at his crew. For a moment, his gaze rested upon them before he circled back to the Doctor.

“I’m just glad we got here when we did,” Shepard said, patting her arm. “But we still have a job to do.” He raised his free hand to his comm unit. “Joker? Can you get a fix on our position?”

 _“Roger that, Commander,”_ the pilot came back without delay. _“All those tubes lead into the main control room right above you. The route is blocked by a security door but there’s another chamber that runs parallel to the one you’re in.”_

EDI’s synthetic voice almost sounded worried as she spoke. _“I cannot recommend that. Thermal emissions suggest the chamber is overrun with seeker swarms. Mordin’s countermeasure cannot protect you against so many at once.”_

“What about biotics?” Shepard asked, looking more to Saren than any of the other biotics on the team. He was a biotic himself but knew his limitations as well as everyone else’s strengths. Choosing to direct his next question to Saren, he asked: “Could we create a biotic field to keep them from getting near us?”

“It is possible.” Saren’s mandibles flared outward, rubbing against the interior of his helmet as he considered the concept and the warmth of his amp against his neck. In the past few minutes, it had cooled enough to allow him to sustain a large barrier. “I wouldn’t be able to protect everyone, but we should be able to get a small team through if they stayed close.”

Lawson walked through the centre of the circle the crew had made, standing on the other side of Shepard and holding Saren’s gaze for a moment before allowing it to fall to Shepard. “I could do it, too,” she said. “In theory, any biotic could handle it. Shepard, who do you want to maintain the field?”

Raising a hand to rub the back of his neck, Shepard sighed. The movement was more habitual than it would have been soothing on account of his helmet but by the time his hand fell back to his side the decision was made. “Saren, Jacob, Jack and I will go through the seeker swarms.” He turned to Garrus. “The rest of you will provide a diversion by going through the main passage. We’ll open the security doors from the other side and meet you there. Garrus-”

“I’ll keep the defenders busy while you slip in the back,” Garrus nodded, understanding his role without needing it described to him. Although he wasn’t looking at Shepard as he said it. Instead, Garrus’ focus was entirely on Saren with his head raised and his hands tight around the stock of his rifle.

The conversation continued on without Saren’s notice. He and Garrus were splitting up. It took all the effort he could muster not to go to his partner one last time. While Shepard and the others discussed who would go back to the ship, protecting the crew, he watched Garrus’ body language. Saren couldn’t see his face through the darkened visor but he knew the expression that would be resting on his plates. His mouth would be closed and his mandibles tight to his maxilla, like they always were when he focused on a tough shot or his endless calibrations.

In the end, Solus and Goto were sent back with the crew.

“We’ve all got our assignments,” Shepard said, breaking the staring contest between Saren and Garrus. “Let’s move out!”

Saren tore his gaze away from Garrus’ to follow the human. The last bit of contact he’d get with Garrus was as their shoulders impacted one another’s when they crossed paths. Going their separate ways to accomplish the mission. He could only hope that they both survived long enough to come together when this was over. That this moment wouldn’t be their last.

‘Hope.’ Saren could have laughed at himself. What used to be such a foreign concept to him was now all he cared about. He wanted to live long enough to say those three words aloud to Garrus and that, he believed now, was worth fighting for.

+-+-+-+

At the entrance to the pathway that would lead them through the seeker swarms, Saren took a long, steadying breath before lighting up his biotics. The barrier easily fit the group and gave them enough space to maneuver in and out of cover as it came available. Standing in the centre, he was wide open to attack but there was no way around it. Internally, he wanted to laugh at his predicament. Never, in all his years, did Saren Arterius think he would find himself relying on a human for protection.

A few months ago, Saren wouldn’t have trusted anyone other than his own students, and possibly Garrus, with his life. Now, he was reliant on this motley crew: the man who’d chased him across the galaxy, a convict, and a Cerberus agent.

“Ready to move out,” Saren confirmed with a brief nod to his team before starting to walk. Jacob opened the door and Saren moved through it first, providing coverage against the swarm until the entrance was sealed behind them.

The area was darker than the first section of the base. Perhaps, Saren considered with a low hum of morbid interest, that this was where the swarms were bred. Where the first section of the base had been silent save the gunfire, the very air around them buzzed and made the sweat building beneath his plates itch. Jack’s expression was no better as she walked next to him, her nose crinkled and a shiver ran across her spine.

“Stay close if you want to live,” Jack remarked as she shook her hands and allowed her palms to glow with blue energy in preparation for a first shockwave. Soon, they’d be fighting again and the eerie feeling would pass.

Over the comms, the other team checked in but instead of the crisp communications they were receiving in the first set of chambers, the transmission was garbled. Only half of Garrus’ words managed to get through. _“-rus here. Team -ition and wait- your ord-, Shepard.”_

“Damn,” Jacob swore, shouldering his assault rifle and aiming further down the corridor. “The swarms are interfering with our radio contact.”

“You ready for this?” Shepard looked across his team and received acknowledging nods from the other two before looking at Saren again.

Saren felt no contempt, only resolve when he replied: “By your lead, Shepard.”

The human gave the Alliance hand signal to move forward and they left the enclosed entryway and entered the chamber itself. No sooner than they stepped into the open did the Collectors come upon them again. The first wave was full of the typical guardians and drones. Dealing with them remained simple despite Saren's inability to fight back. The others protected him and ensured his shields held against the onslaught.

It wasn’t until _Harbinger_ reappeared that Saren faltered.

 _“Assuming direct control!”_ the abomination boomed in its otherworldly voice, its glowing eyes penetrated through the darkness of the Collector construct and directly into Saren’s own. That sick feeling in his gizzard came upon him quickly, strong enough to make him stumble and the barrier flicker momentarily.

Shepard noticed. “Saren,” he yelled over the noise. “You need to swap out?”

He shut his eyes, refocusing on the steady pull of his biotics and on the warmth of his amp. Saren flicked his crest in a negative. “No. I’m fine. Just kill it!”

Saren could have sworn there was a touch of humour in Shepard’s voice as he replied first with a burst of gunfire and then verbally: “You got it!”

Biting his tongue hard enough to make it bleed helped him focus until the first such abomination was destroyed. Fighting _Harginger’s_ influence was agony in his mind and white-hot flashes moved across the inside of his eyelids even after it was gone. The whispers sounded more like screams and reminded him too much of his incarceration.

Jack yelled the all clear and only then did he reopen his eyes. Jacob was keeping watch a few metres away and the other two were at his side. Jack’s hand was stopped in the air between them, almost as if she was attempting to comfort him, and Shepard was reloading his weapon watching Saren as he stood back up to his full height.

Before either of them could question or console him, he reset his shoulders. “Let me know when you’re ready to move up, Shepard.”

“Let’s go,” the Spectre agreed and he turned away to lead them deeper into the tunnels. There was no word from the other team yet, but there was no shortage of enemies. Keeping the barrier stable and fighting off _Harbinger_ seemed to sap the energy from his very bones.

As soon as they came upon the next group, _Harbinger_ appeared again. _“This hurts you, Saren!”_

And a third time. _“Ascended beings never need fear pain, join with us!”_

By the time they were nearing the exit, keeping his barrier strong enough to hold the swarms at bay was nearly impossible. A migraine had bloomed across the front of his crest and lines of sweat had soaked his undersuit through in places. Nausea made his steps slow across the uneven ground and weakness pulled at his arms.

“Hold on, Saren,” Shepard encouraged as he reloaded his rifle for what must have been the hundredth time. “We’re almost there.”

Jack threw another Collector into the air for Shepard to shoot, her gaze landed on Saren for a moment before her head swivelled to her Commander. “We need to get out of here, Shepard. Something’s not right about this....”

“All right, let’s move!” he agreed and the squad moved together, getting nearly to the exit, before needing to stop one final time. “They’re pushing. Keep it up!”

 _“Don’t resist,”_ _Harbinger_ boomed. The words felt like scalpels cutting into his hide. _“You will not stop us!”_

Saren’s hands shook, his breaths came in even gasps. “Hurry, Shepard!”

_“If I must tear you apart again, Saren, I will!”_

He whipped his head back and forth, snarling at the voice. Saren didn’t know if it was out loud anymore or if it was inside his mind. He… he was getting weaker. The barrier was growing smaller. The other three were pinned down. They were going to die and it was his fault.

_“...repeat, Shepard, do you copy?”_

Saren felt his heart skip a beat. That was a voice he knew. A voice he trusted. _Garrus._ He swallowed down the bile resting at the back of his throat.

“I copy,” Shepard shouted into the comm. “What’s your position?”

 _“We’re pinned down at the door,”_ Garrus told him. _“Taking heavy fire, but we’re holding.”_

“We’re coming; just hold on!” Saren called out. He wasn’t going to allow himself to succumb. He would not fail his partner. He just… he just needed to get through this. These last few steps to freedom. _Harbinger_ would not win. It would not control him.

Refocusing his resolve, Saren boosted his barrier. Electrifying it against the seeker swarms and disintegrating them upon impact. _Just a few more seconds._ They made it to the door and in one final show of strength, Saren let his barrier loose and destroyed all those Collectors still standing. The door closed, sealing the enemy out.

Now that they were through the gauntlet, they could help the others. Jacob ran for the console while Shepard and Jack covered the other entrance, giving Saren a moment to catch his breath a little further back in cover. He fell to his knees and tore his helmet off, taking great gasps of air to help make the sickness go away faster.

The second the doors opened, gunfire erupted. The roar quieted his racing mind and refocused him on the fight. By the time his assault rifle was aimed down range at the advancing Collectors, the rest of the team was through. His shots joined the rest of the barrage.

“Seal the door!” Shepard ordered.

Jacob got them moving but too slowly as the Collectors continued to advance and refuse to give them any ground. More than one shield flickered out, sending their owners quickly to cover until it was only Garrus, Shepard and Grunt still standing in the open.

With less easy targets, the Collectors focused in on the remaining three. In the last moments, before the doors shut, a final hail of bullets broke through and fried Garrus’ shields. Just like on Omega, Saren could do nothing but watch as his partner doubled over. He’d been shot.

The sound of the doors slamming shut seemed to echo in Saren’s head. As did the clatter of his weapon when it hit the ground.

Leaving his gun, Saren vaulted over the protective half-wall he’d taken cover behind and sprinted to Garrus’ side. Shepard was already there, helping to lower him to the ground so that he didn’t fall. Saren all but shoved the human out of his way, tearing at the latch of Garrus’ helmet. He needed to see his face, he needed to know if he was alive. The panic had risen so far up in his chest that his vocals had gone haywire.

Saren barely heard Garrus’ complaint: “Damn, that hurt.” Nor did he register the fact his partner waved the others off. When Saren’s panic-clumsy talons finally managed to wrench the helmet off, he found sympathetic eyes watching him and a tired but amused tilt on Garrus’ mandibles.

He looked down at the damage. Blinking a few times, Saren realized it wasn’t a life-threatening injury. A gut shot was painful but not lethal if taken care of properly. Glancing at Garrus’ omnitool, he saw that medigel had already been administered. His readings were stable.

“I’m okay,” Garrus whispered, reaching a hand up to hold the side of Saren’s face. Saren pressed into the weight of it, letting out a relieved whoosh of air.

“I thought I lost you,” he said.

An amused note broke the lingering tension and Garrus leaned toward him, wincing as their crests impacted against one another’s. “I’m hard to kill.”

But what Garrus didn’t understand was that Saren’s meaning was two-fold. Garrus may have been shot but Saren had almost let _Harbinger_ take over. He ran his tongue along the back edge of his teeth, feeling the deep cut he’d made. It hurt and the pain helped to keep him centred. He needed to refocus. This could be dealt with later.

Saren helped Garrus to his feet at the same time that Jack approached them. Her mouth was full of something and she was too busy chewing to say anything as she held out one of the Cabal energy bars Saren kept stocked on the _Normandy._ He took the ration and tore it open with his teeth, his other hand busy helping to keep Garrus upright.

She visibly swallowed, her face contorting in disgust at either the texture or the taste of her own bar. “Y’alright, bird-men?”

“I’ll live,” Garrus quipped, forcing himself to stand on his own.

Saren hummed in agreement and tore off another chunk of the bar. Calories would help stop his hands from shaking, or at least that’s what he told himself. When Tali approached from behind Jack and offered him his helmet and rifle, he changed his tone from mild annoyance to gratitude.

Once he was finished eating, both he and Garrus armed themselves and the four rejoined the rest of the squad. Shepard was just finishing up with Moreau and EDI.

 _“You got a problem,”_ Moreau explained. _“Hostiles are massing just outside the door. Won’t be long until they bust through.”_

Sighing, Shepard crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed back into his hip. “A rearguard could defend this position and keep the Collectors from overwhelming us.”

“Pick a team to go with you, Shepard,” Garrus said. “The rest of us can bunker down here and cover your back.”

Saren knew that Garrus was excusing himself from the final squad as well as retaking his position as leader of the second team. Shepard nodded and briefly glanced at Saren before moving on to the others. Whether he suspected the Reaper had an effect on him or if he just wanted him to remain with Garrus, Saren didn’t know.

“Legion, Samara, and Miranda,” he said. “You’re with me.”

The chosen teammates joined Shepard on the platform that would take them to the heart of the base so they could place the explosives. The rest began arming themselves for immediate battle, replacing thermal clips and checking their shields.

“Anything to say before we do this?” Lawson offered, giving Shepard one final chance to bolster the troops. And this time, Saren listened. They were the last guard, the galaxy’s final hope… not just against the Collectors but the Reapers, too.

“We win or lose it all in the next few minutes,” Shepard finished. “Make me proud. Make yourselves proud!”

They’d made it further than Saren had expected them to and hadn’t lost a single squad member. Shepard’s confidence bolstered his resolve and having Garrus at his side again meant he was more confident in himself to keep the voices at bay. For the first time, Saren believed that they could actually make it out alive.

+-+-+-+

Once Shepard and his team were away, Garrus found seven sets of eyes waiting on his command. Resettling his shoulder, he glanced around the area. There wasn’t much cover. Regardless, he had to figure out a way to keep the team safe. First thing was first, he needed to have his snipers in the rear.

“Zaeed and Thane, you’ll take cover back here. Armour piercing rounds and go for the scions and then drones when you can.”

They each made a brief acknowledgement and headed for their posts, stowing the weapons they didn’t require and preparing sniper nests for the upcoming onslaught. Next, Garrus needed to handle the source of their issues, the door itself. If the Collectors managed to break through their lines, he needed a solution.

“Grunt and Jack, you’re on crowd control. I don’t want to see a single husk get through that door, got it?”

With a sarcastic salute, Jack turned away and moved for her station by the door as she began munching on another ration bar. She called out for Grunt to follow and the krogan did, already speaking excitedly with the human about his plans to smash the competition. Pushing away the urge to roll his eyes, Garrus focused in on his remaining three team members.

“The rest of you are mid-field. Tali, you’re on shield duty, get your drone out there and keep the overloads coming. Saren and Jacob, move the barricades from the far end of the chamber to the centre. Focus on the guardians when they show up.”

Nodding, Jacob moved off at a jog, heading for the barriers. Tali dropped her nose to her omnitool and when she saw Saren didn’t leave right away, she walked away to give them a moment alone.

“And you?” Saren asked, grabbing his arm and squeezing at the elbow joint. Garrus could feel the pressure through his armour and he wrapped a hand around the back of Saren’s fringe, pulling him inward for a brief clank of helmets.

“I’m going to focus on _Harbinger,”_ Garrus said as he released his partner. “That bastard isn’t going to get through to us. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Garrus felt the pressure of Saren’s talons increase but the other turian said nothing.

“Saren?”

The biotic shook his head and let go. “Later.”

Garrus wanted to say more but there was no time. The doors started to part and the first shot hit the new barricades Jacob had pulled into place. As one, the squad began to fire back. Saren and Garrus moved to cover. The rhythmic booms of his sniper rifle melded with the staccato beat of biotic shockwaves and the hiss of shields fizzling out.

It wasn’t long before _Harbinger_ made its appearance.

_“You prolong the inevitable.”_

Focusing his fire on the possessed soldier, Garrus quickly whittled away its armour and barriers. This caused it to disintegrate like all the others before it, though it was barely a half-minute before another appeared.

_“You escaped us before, Saren, not again.”_

The words made Garrus freeze for a brief moment before he snarled and focused on the new Collector beast. That… that _thing_ had just used Saren’s name. Taking a brief sweep of the battlefield, he realized it wasn’t aiming at the rest of the squad, just his lover. It had to be intentional.

As he reloaded, Garrus looked at Saren to find him spending more time than normal behind cover. His shots were slower and biotic attacks not as… crisp as usual. The lines were blurred.

 _“You have no one left,”_ it boomed before it disintegrated and the otherworldly voice moved across the battlefield to its next host. _“We are not finished.”_

The fighting continued and every time _Harbinger_ reappeared it insulted and attacked Saren directly. Garrus hated it. Restraining his subvocals so that they didn’t transmit over comms physically hurt by the time Shepard checked in.

_“Shepard, to ground team. Status report?”_

“Garrus here,” he replied, punctuating his words with additional rounds through the nearest drone’s skull. “We’re holding but they keep coming. This location is not sustainable for long!”

 _“We’re in position. Head to the Normandy,”_ Shepard ordered before checking in with Jeff to ensure the ship itself could be ready for them. _“Joker, prep the engines, we’re about to overload this place and blow it sky high.”_

 _“Roger that, Commander,”_ Joker came back right away. Whereas Garrus took an extra minute, needing to bark at Grunt first to ensure the krogan got to cover to charge his shields before they died completely.

Once the comm lines were clear, he concentrated on clearing their path to the exit. Together, they moved out of the chamber and down one of the many corridors toward the _Normandy._ Joker had moved the ship a second time, bringing it within a few minutes' journey of their current position.

Collectors continued to swarm their position, refusing to give up. If it weren’t for their varied skills, Garrus was certain someone would have been toted off by the swarms. Jack and Saren used their barriers to keep the swarm away, Grunt and Zaeed swapped to incendiary ammunition to burn through the abominations, Tali’s omnitool should have overloaded ages ago but was still going strong. Together, they must have killed a thousand drones.

As it was, they were all worse for wear by the time they reached the _Normandy’_ s gangplank, whether it was Jacob’s broken arm from a husk that had gotten too close or Tali’s suit puncture when her shields didn’t regenerate fast enough. Even Grunt had felt the strain, collapsing the moment they were safe. What mattered is that they made it.

The second the cargo bay doors closed, EDI’s voice echoed in the disaster zone the Oculus had left behind in their initial approach to the Collector base. Compared to the constant gunfire outside, the tinny sound of her voice was almost too quiet to make out. _“We are moving to Shepard’s extraction point. Inertial dampeners are only working at partial capacity. Please strap yourselves down.”_

“How partial, EDI?” Garrus asked already searching for potential solutions… the elevator or storage rooms came to mind first.

 _“The force will not be lethal,”_ EDI explained _. “But any change in direction or speed will cause discomfort and make it difficult to maintain footing. I recommend moving quickly, Shepard has set the bomb.”_

“Shit,” Garrus swore, looking around to see three massive holes in the sides of the ship. The kinetic barriers would only keep the atmosphere in. If anyone fell out… they’d be a goner. In his peripheral, he spotted the shuttle in its cradle. That would work. “Everyone with me!”

Stowing his rifle, Garrus bodily picked up Grunt and hauled his ass off the floor. Thane grabbed the krogan’s other side, helping shoulder his massive weight. The shuttle was their best bet. Inside, they’d be protected from any loose equipment that decided to go for a walk while they were airborne. And, if he was lucky, the Kodiak would have sufficient power for its own dampeners to make the journey a little more comfortable.

Inside, he dropped Grunt into a seat, counted heads, and came up one short. _Saren._

“Strap in!” Garrus ordered. “Jacob, get the Kodiak online, see if the dampeners are working. I’ll be right back.”

Hopping out of the shuttle, he spotted Saren’s weapons and helmet strewn about leading in a trail toward the cargo crates. His teeth clenched together and he ran for the other end of the bay, where they’d had their brutal sparring match all those weeks ago.

“Saren!” he yelled and then swore under his breath as the ship began to sway. He could feel the pull of the artificial gravity flickering and he chose not to magnetize his boots in case they accelerated. He did not need broken ankles right now.

 _“Inertial dampeners are holding at seventy-one percent capability and dropping, Garrus,”_ EDI unhelpfully supplied.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Jack shouted from the door of the Kodiak. “Shit’s about to get real!”

He picked up his pace as best he could and rounded the crates to find Saren on his knees, clawing at the back of his fringe. Blood dribbled out between his fingers and his voice was a ruin of keening and gasping for air.

A moment’s hesitation was stopped by another lurch.

_“Sixty-three percent.”_

They needed to get to the shuttle _now._ “Saren, we gotta go!”

He reached for him and Saren lashed out, the talons of his artificial hand making three long gouges in Garrus’ forearm plate. “Get away!” he hissed.

The posture, his voice. Everything about this moment brought pure dread to Garrus’ spirit. He recognized this. It was just like the Citadel. Something was inside Saren's head and he couldn't get it out. Isolating himself from the rest of the crew was the best he could manage in his current state. Garrus swallowed the growing panic in his gut. He didn't have time to talk him down.

Instead, Garrus grabbed Saren from behind and dragged him to his feet. He flailed but a well-timed jolt made them both stumble and the biotic attack he'd been preparing failed.

“I’m not giving up on you!” Garrus grunted and urged them toward the shuttle. “Fight it, Saren.”

“It's too strong,” Saren told him, digging his heels in and attempting to stop their trek.

“No, it isn't. Fight back.” Garrus picked him up around the waist, hoisting him into the air. “I'm here. It can be quiet again, you just have to trust me!”

Another yell cut through the sound of the cargo crates shifting and beginning to slide and he couldn’t make out whose voice it was over the scraping noise of metal on metal.

“Shut the doors!” he commanded over the comms. He needed to keep the rest of the crew safe, even if it meant he and Saren died. With his helmet off, Saren wouldn’t survive in space. They needed to get to cover. “EDI! Open the elevator!”

_“The doors are open. You must hurry, Garrus. Stabilizers are holding now at sixty-eight percent.”_

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He heaved, over halfway to the elevator, and that’s when he felt the bullet wound in his abdomen split open. Garrus couldn’t help the strangled gasp of pain that left his maw nor the fact his grip loosened and Saren slipped out of his grasp.

The ship lurched, sending them both sprawling to the deck.

“Damn it…” Garrus wheezed. “Sar-” A coughing fit cut him off and spattered the inside of his helmet with blood. He tried to get up, managing to force himself onto his hands and knees before crashing to the floor again when the ship’s systems couldn’t compensate fully for the acceleration. EDI said something he couldn’t hear. Garrus closed his eyes against the world spinning around him.

When he opened them again, he was on his back.

Blinking a handful of times, the blur above him slowly became solid. The ceiling was low, harsh white lights making him squint even through his visor. He tried to move and found himself pinned down. Before he could even begin to sort out where he was, the pull of weightlessness appeared for a moment before disappearing and the artificial gravity shoved him back down into the floor.

Raising his head barely a centimetre above the floor, Garrus realized he was in the elevator. Saren was on top of him, snarling through bared teeth, his nose bleeding and the eerie blue light of biotics surrounded them like a welcomed protector. Over the comms, he could hear Shepard: _“Did the ground team make it?”_ and Joker: _“All survivors on board, just waiting for you!”._

As the edges of his vision began to fade to black again, he could have sworn he heard _Harbinger’s_ voice penetrate through the thick steel walls and haunt the very air around him.

_“You have changed nothing. You have garnered the attention of those infinitely your greater. That which you know as Reapers are your salvation through destruction.”_

He… he wanted to say something. To hold onto Saren and refuse to let go. But the siren's call of unconsciousness was too strong and his head too heavy. Garrus passed out.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> Ooph. This was a rough one!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  “The Council approved this?”
> 
> At Shepard’s silence, Saren stopped. Facing away from the man, he waited for him to reply. It took a few moments for the human to admit the truth: “Not… exactly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Disturbed - A Reason To Fight**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4382UVl0oc)
> 
> Mild NSFW in this chapter. To skip, stop reading this chapter at -twelve hours and thirty-four minutes-.

13 - Faults and Fortitude

\- - -

The voices inside his head worsened as time went on. Saren could hardly hear Garrus’ commands over _Harbinger’s_ words when they reached the ship. It was screaming at him. Telling him how useless fighting was, they could not win, the others would betray him eventually and he should side with the Reapers now before he was doomed.

Fear is an odd sensation, one Saren knew well but always had the tools and experience to suppress. If he needed to hide, he knew how to fade into shadows. If he needed to kill, he need only fall back on years of muscle memory. Yet, what could be done when the person to be feared was himself? When he could no longer trust his coordination, his memories, his reflexes not to turn and aim his gun at those he had come to call friends?

Or Garrus.

Getting clear from the team was Saren’s top priority upon reaching the _Normandy._ He tore his helmet off to try and stop the echoing voice. When that didn’t help and _Harbinger_ just screamed louder, he dropped his weapons, barely hearing the noise they made over the booming voice in his head.

It demanded blood.

When he managed to get clear and behind a stack of crates, his amp refused to leave its socket. He could feel the blood seeping out from between his fingers as he clawed at the back of his neck but he didn’t dare stop. Desperate to get himself completely unarmed he continued to tear at the port, lest he start ripping at someone else’s neck.

And then… Garrus appeared.

_“Kill him, Saren.”_

Saren’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

But it hurt so much. Too much.

He didn’t even know what happened next, just that when he came back to himself a different voice was yelling at him. This one didn’t want him to kill anyone. It just wanted him to move. He- he could do that.

_“Saren, take Garrus and get to the elevator! You must move!”_

His feet were like lead bricks but he managed to stand. Garrus was lying a few feet away from him. How he wished he could raise a shield of blissful ignorance as to why but the throbbing sting of his own fists rendered that agonizingly impossible. Panic made him keen. He could hate himself later. Saren picked his lover up as gingerly as he could manage before rushing to the elevator as the world swayed around him. Somehow he managed to keep his footing.

_“Use your biotics to remain stable. I will inform you when we are through the relay.”_

Saren laid Garrus down and straddled him, securing them both to the metal floor as the ship jostled below them. A biotic field weakly enveloped them, keeping the pair of turians stable. And, mercifully, _Harbinger’s_ voice grew quieter until it disappeared completely. He didn’t dare open his eyes.

_“We are clear, Saren.”_

Dropping the field, Saren felt dizzy and weak. The helpful voice came into focus a little more, no longer sounding as if he were underwater.

_“Are you yourself, Saren? Help has arrived.”_

The voice Saren now recognized as EDI’s. The ship’s AI would not lead him astray. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and the metallic taste of blood flooded his palate. It made his gut roil and a shudder crawl down his spine. At last, his head was quiet. It was safe enough.

“Yes. Garrus needs help,” he said, removing himself from above his partner and falling against the far wall. His armour crashed against the metal, making an echo in the enclosed space loud enough to make him wince. “Please,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Send someone. Anyone.”

The impact caused him to see stars. His neck throbbed. Saren shut his eyes, raising a bloodstained hand to cover them against the overhead lights. When he managed to open them again, the doors were sliding open. Jack and Tali stopped just before the threshold.

While the quarian simply gasped, going rigid at the sight before her, the human was already in motion. She dropped to her knees in front of him, her jaw visibly tight. “The fuck happened?”

He saw a fire in her gaze. A maturity he didn’t recognize.

“Help Garrus,” he wheezed, flinging out his arm to direct them. He didn’t need her, Garrus did.

Jack’s eyes never left his face. “Tali, check on Garrus. EDI, get us up to the medical bay and have Chakwas standing by.” She held her hands out in front of her, guarding or placating, he wasn’t sure.

Behind Jack, Tali had moved to Garrus’ side. Her back was to them so he couldn’t see what she was doing. A few moments later, the elevator started to move. Seconds ticked by until Tali spoke. “The bullet wound reopened,” she said. “I’ve got him stabilized with medigel.”

Some of the panic subsided with that knowledge.

“Saren,” Jack moved into his sightline, blocking his view. “I need you to take out your amp. Alright?”

He nodded minutely. This time, when he reached for his amp, it came out smooth. Which both troubled and relieved him at once. Saren placed it into Jack’s outstretched hand, fingers shaking despite his attempts to keep them steady. She pocketed the device, remaining between him and Garrus.

The lift came to a stop a minute later and two crewmen approached with a stretcher. Tali directed them, her voice stable and authoritative as he’d never heard from her before. While Saren’s heart wanted to follow, his better judgement told him to stay put. Though he was injured as well, Garrus was the one that required the doctor’s undivided attention. Saren’s presence would only be a hindrance.

“Let’s get to your quarters, alright?” Jack offered him a hand.

Saren surprised himself by taking it. It was warm, warmer than his own blood-stained palm. With a heave, he was on his feet. The woman was deceptively strong. As they passed the medical bay, Saren found his gaze fixated on the closed doors. If Jack hadn’t pulled him along, he would have remained there, staring at it for hours. Like… like last time.

“Sit,” she ordered once they were in his quarters and near the couches. He did. “Stay,” was her next command and he waited for her to return, which she did within a few minutes. “I’m going to check your amp port.”

“Go ahead,” he said weakly, drained of any strength to resist even if he wanted to. Though he appreciated the warning. In sharp contrast to her rather violent nature, Jack was surprisingly gentle as she worked, carefully wiping the blood away from the gashes he’d made. A stray thought passed his mind and he had to ask: “Where did you learn to do this?”

Jack’s hands stilled a moment. Then he heard the rustling of plastic packaging before feeling the cooling sting of medigel on the back of his neck. “Got my hands on some textbooks when I escaped from Cerberus,” she explained absentmindedly. “Didn’t have anyone to do this kind of shit for me.”

“Hm.”

“Here,” she reached a hand in front of him, offering a ration bar like earlier. When he didn’t take it right away, she said: “Eat.” He made a discontented noise which she reciprocated in a more mocking way. “I know you don’t want to, but it will help.”

Saren took the bar and ignored the bloodstained packaging, the food inside would be fine. He tore through the package with his talons and though his mandibles pulled into an expression of mild disgust at the smell and texture of the item, he did eat it. The ration sat like a lead weight in his stomach but the gnawing exhaustion started to ebb. When Jack finished dealing with the lacerations, she asked him if there were any other injuries. There were not, so she joined him on the couch, focusing her attention on a ration bar of her own.

Waiting for her to finish eating, Saren took in the woman’s appearance. Jack looked just as haggard as he felt with dried gore splattered across her chest and dirt smudged along her arms. Her paint was gone, the darkening ink she normally used around her eyes had run down her cheeks. The energy bar was gone in short order and she pulled another out.

When the silence became too much for her to bear, she broke it.

“So… are you going to tell me what the elephant in the room is? Or make me guess?”

Though the word ‘elephant’ meant nothing to Saren, he could conjecture at what she meant. Jack wanted to know what had happened to make him disobey Garrus’ orders, what had caused him to claw at his amp and why he’d essentially panicked inside the Collector base.

Staring blankly into the middle distance, words flooded his mind. There were too many things he’d have to explain for Jack to understand. She… she wasn’t there last time, on the Citadel. She didn’t see what he became. So instead, he settled on a single word. _“Harbinger.”_

In his peripheral, the reflection of the metallic wrapper flashed in the light as the bar slowly lowered to Jack’s lap. Saren audibly heard her swallow a chalky bite. “The Reaper?”

For lack of any true explanation, he nodded.

“That thing was fucking creepy.” She shivered as though she was shaking off droplets of cold water. “Shouting Shepard’s name like that. It weirded me out, too.”

Saren jolted at her comment and turned toward her. “What?”

“Yeah, it was all ‘This hurts you, Shepard!’ like some fucked up horror vid.”

Processing the new information took Saren a few moments. His mandibles fell slack and his eyes narrowed slightly with his confusion. _Harbinger_ had used his name, not Shepard’s. The taunts were directed at him, like on Horizon… weren’t they?

“Anyway,” Jack said, returning the ration bar to her mouth and talking around the next bite. “That makes sense. It was all echoey when we got back to the ship, screaming about how ‘loss was inevitable’. Fucking weird.”

“Right,” he nodded, his sightline dropping from her to the floor. “Strange.”

“It’s over for now. Surprise! We all survived.” She looked up to the ceiling. “Right, EDI?”

 _“Correct, Jack,”_ EDI replied from her speaker nearby the doors. _“The Commander has requested we dock at Omega for emergency repairs, estimated time of arrival is three hours and forty minutes.”_

The tattooed human relaxed back into the couch beside him, kicking off her boots before pulling her feet up onto the cushion beside his thigh. “See,” she yawned. “It’s gonna be just fine.”

Saren hummed in agreement. Perhaps he’d simply been hallucinating the Reaper in his head, a cruel trick used to weaken the opposition, and it would seem he wasn’t the only one affected. If Shepard experienced something similar, then maybe it wasn’t _Harbinger_ or _Sovereign_ or any other Reaper trying to take control. It was simply a figment of his imagination, brought on by his over-stressed mind while under the assault of a creature’s last, frenzied death throes. Perhaps, once the doctor had managed the rest of the crew, he would ask her to take a brain scan to check for trauma.

There was _time_ now. Like never before in his life.

Standing in one smooth motion, he disturbed the small human nodding off beside him. Her eyes were bleary and she made a small hum. Saren shook his head, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over her. “Sleep, Jack.”

She inhaled sharply through her nose and sidled down further into the couch before lying down completely. “Yeah, hm, kay.”

Saren quietly removed his armour and headed for the showers. The room was empty when he arrived. It gave him time to privately ask EDI about Garrus’ condition before anyone else had the same idea about the showers and joined him to remove the battlefield residue.

 _“Garrus is in surgery, Saren,”_ EDI replied. _“Doctor Chakwas is confident he will pull through. Would you like me to inform you when she is finished?”_

“Please.”

 _“Of course.”_ Her voice had an almost sympathetic ring to it. _“Is there anything else you require?”_

He considered it for a moment before deciding on an answer. “How is the rest of the crew?”

 _“Extensive injuries have been reported, yet nothing life-threatening,”_ she said and this time, her voice most definitely had a cheery tone to it. It was… oddly comforting. _“Jacob has a broken arm, Tali a suit puncture which will likely cause a manageable infection, Grunt and Thane have overexerted themselves but with rest, they will recover. Samara accrued burns in the final escape and will be treated after Garrus. The Collector base is confirmed to be destroyed. We have won.”_

Saren leaned against the wall, letting the heat rush over his tired muscles and the air leave his lungs all at once. The outcome was so unexpected, yet so welcomed -just like the water streaming down his back. The quiet helped to ground him as the gore, dirt, and sweat sloughed off his plates. They had won. The words echoed in his mind, drowning out any residual doubts and whispers.

“Thank you, EDI.”

_“You are welcome, Saren. Logging you out.”_

+-+-+-+

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Squeezing his eyes shut a little tighter, Garrus groaned. He didn’t want to wake up yet, the pull of sleep was too alluring. The bed warm and comf- _wait._ He adjusted his shoulders, feeling the stiff mattress below him that was nothing like the nest he and Saren slept in.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Garrus inhaled sharply as he blinked himself awake. His nose was immediately assaulted by the stringent scent of antiseptic and blood. Both things he was all too familiar with. The lights were low around him and dim shapes came into focus after a few moments. For once, he wasn’t the only patient. It appeared as though they had a full house.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

In the bed closest to the door, Thane slept with an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. His breaths appeared deep and even in sleep, though Garrus could hear a slight wheeze when he focused on the sound. He was resting in the central bed and the third had been quarantined off in a quarian medical bubble.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

His mandibles slid into a small smile at seeing Tali bundled under umpteen blankets. Her black hair poked out from underneath the covers, she was suitless and her arm was covering her face. The fabric of the shirt she wore was bright pink and fuzzy looking. He’d seen Kelly in sleeping clothes just like them once before, late in the night cycle. It was possible Tali had seen them too and purchased a set for herself. Otherwise, maybe they’d sterilized Kelly’s, he wasn’t sure.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Turning his head toward the incessant noise, Garrus realized it was actually his own medication monitor. Reaching one arm out from under the blankets, he tapped the red circular button he’d come to learn meant ‘stop’ to all humans. Three dashed lines appeared on the screen and the noise died. He drew his hand back into the warmth and closed his eyes again, attempting to gather the strength to sit up. If he managed to get out of the medical bay undetected then he’d be able to crawl into bed with Saren instead.

A steadying breath gave him enough energy to try sitting up. Garrus did not get very far. The moment his abdominal muscles contracted, a shooting pain exploded out from where he’d been shot. He grimaced, the feeling of stitches tugging at abused hide made small stars flash across his vision.

 _“Moving in your condition is inadvisable, Garrus,”_ EDI helpfully supplied as her blue hologram appeared beside the doors.

“No, shit. Ahh.” Garrus dropped back into the sheets.

Quiet returned for a handful of minutes but EDI’s bubble didn’t leave so Garrus carefully wiggled his way higher up on the stack of pillows behind himself so he could see her more clearly. He knew it was unnecessary but something in the way she’d changed her manner of speaking since being unshackled made him want to be more polite. EDI had become one of the crew.

“EDI, can you give me a sitrep?”

 _“Of course,”_ she said, keeping her volume low. _“Other than those in the medical bay, there are no casualties. Minor injuries have been treated in multiple crew members but they are resting in quarters. The Collector base has been destroyed. We have docked on Omega for repairs.”_

A slow smile began tugging at his mandibles, spreading them wide after a few seconds. Victory sunk in like the first sip of kava after braving Lattesh’s blizzard in the Hammerhead. “Damn.”

_“I will take that expletive as a good sign?”_

“Yeah,” Garrus grinned at the way the AI’s voice damn-near sounded like laughter. Carefully extracting an arm from under the blankets, he checked the time to see it was just before normal dayshift rolled out of their beds. He also noted that he’d been asleep for thirteen hours. “Is Saren awake?”

 _“He is on his way,”_ EDI told him a moment before the doors opened to a sleep-lagged Saren. He appeared mildly dishevelled in his robe, as though he’d gotten out of bed too quickly and made it down the hall before his feet realized where they were going.

Garrus’ mandibles spread wider, enough to make him wince at the tug on the still-healing musculature in his jaw. EDI’s light winked out unnoticed.

“Hey,” he greeted with a warm rumble.

Saren had no words. Instead, he simply crossed the space between them and pressed their crests together. His deep bass vibrations could be felt in the air before they even touched.

+-+-+-+

In the days after the Collector base, the _Normandy_ remained quiet. Exhaustion ran rampant through the crew and ground team alike. Many needed the time to heal, as did the ship. A week docked on Omega would have them space worthy enough for additional relay travel. It was a lifetime it seemed after all the running around they’d been doing for the past weeks.

In the quietude the evening before their set departure from the station, Saren sat alone in the armoury. His hands following the familiar pattern for weapon maintenance, sliding a brush down the rifle bore with practiced ease. By now, it came as naturally as bathing or filing his talons. The routine helped keep him occupied. His mind had been silent since he’d come back to himself in the elevator and he wanted to keep it that way.

He hadn’t told Garrus about the whispers, not after Jack informed him she heard _Harbinger_ speak too. It wasn’t just that, Saren also hadn’t found the right way to bring it up and with the silence continuing… keeping the secret was easier. The Doctor’s scans didn’t show anything abnormal, either. There was no reason to worry Garrus unnecessarily.

At the sound of the doors sliding apart, the biotic glanced up. Much to his surprise, it wasn’t Taylor or Garrus standing there, but Shepard.

“Hey, Saren. Do you have a minute?” he asked from the entryway, almost hesitant to walk deeper into the armoury despite Saren having no claim to it like he did his own quarters.

Saren wordlessly gestured to the empty stool across from him. He dropped his attention back to cleaning his weapon and listened to the scrape of stool’s metal feet against the floor as Shepard sat down. When the human simply waited for Saren to indulge him, he said: “What can I do for you, Shepard?”

“I’ve just finished my mission report to the Council.”

Saren stilled. His talons went motionless for a moment like stuck gears before resuming. He waited for Shepard to continue.

“I wanted to discuss the next steps.” He paused. Almost as if he was waiting for Saren’s full attention. The turian gave it, leaving his pistol on the table and folding his hands in front of himself on the cool surface. On the way to meeting Shepard’s eyes, Saren caught a small, nervous smile on his lips.

“Which are?” Saren asked, growing impatient with the man. The expression lent itself to good news but it did nothing to calm his Spirit. If the outcome of the meeting was poor, it meant he would need to disappear. He would need to leave the _Normandy_ and live on the run. It meant he and Garrus would have to part again, he didn’t want that life for his partner any more than he wanted it for himself.

“The Reapers are still coming,” Shepard said, much to Saren’s annoyance.

He rolled his eyes and barely suppressed a growl. “I am aware of that.”

“The Council has given me leeway to continue pursuing our leads. I still don’t think they believe me that they’re coming but Anderson helped convince the rest of them my work to strengthen galactic defences can’t hurt.”

Saren huffed. “Better than nothing, I suppose.”

The human’s gaze moved off as if he had taken interest in the rifle rack behind Saren. His fingers drummed against the worktable. “It’s been suggested I take the time now to be officially mentored by a fellow Spectre since I technically never completed that part on a count of….”

Shepard trailed off awkwardly, realizing his mistake. The brief silence heavy with the weight of their violent pasts. Saren merely blinked and waited for him to recover. After a few moments, he managed.

“Well, you know.” Shepard cleared his throat. “They mentioned a Spectre Bau.”

Saren’s mandibles fluttered outward as he considered the salarian and the direction the conversation had taken. He hadn’t worked with the salarian directly. Bau had become a Spectre just a few years ago, after Avitus' and Nihlus’ time. In a salarian lifespan, he’d been an operative nearly a quarter of his life, long enough to become well-established and have a good reputation behind him.

“He would be an acceptable choice, Shepard. You will learn well.”

“Actually….” Shepard paused and returned his eyes to Saren. “I had a different mentor in mind.”

Saren didn’t understand what the human was getting at. He hadn’t been overly involved in the business of other Spectres and the datafiles Shepard could access would give him more than enough information to make an informed choice. “And you’d like my opinion?”

“I’d like for you to be my mentor.”

Saren’s surprise manifested itself in the form of two blinks in quick succession.

“Me, mentor you?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

Shepard’s hand rose to rub across the back of his neck and he sighed. “Well, a few reasons, I guess. There are things I don’t know about being a Spectre, and you were the best. You’ve had students before-”

“Turian students,” Saren reminded him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head. “We’ve proven we can work together. And I thought you were over the fact I’m a human.”

Scoffing, Saren stood up and pressed his palms to the table. He… he needed to move. “I have not trained an asari or a salarian either. All species learn differently. I do not care that you are human, only that I have never taught one. Nor have I taught a biotic, for that matter.”

Shepard shrugged, watching on as he began to pace. “Well, I’ve never had a turian instructor. It’s new for both of us.”

“The Council approved this?”

At Shepard’s silence, Saren stopped. Facing away from the man, he waited for him to reply. It took a few moments for the human to admit the truth: “Not… exactly. I suggested it. Anderson is going to work on the rest of them.”

Saren’s eyes narrowed at the far wall, his hands tightening behind his back. That did not make any sense. As far as Saren remembered, the human Council member despised him. “Why would he do that?”

“I know you two didn’t see eye-to-eye,” Shepard explained. The stool made an awful scraping noise as he pushed it back to stand up. “But he believes me that the Reapers are coming. He won’t turn down your help. _I_ won’t turn down your help. If you’re willing?”

Nihlus’ face came unbidden to Saren’s mind. He should have been the one to train Shepard. In another life, it might have been him sitting where Saren sat now, looking at his pupil with both pride and worry. Instead, Saren had killed him. What would Nihlus think of this situation now? Saren had scoffed when the younger turian told him of his plans, that he saw potential in the human known as ‘Shepard’ and that he wanted to foster it. The universe had an odd sense of humour.

So had Nihlus, for that matter.

When Saren did not reply right away, the human approached the far door. As he reached it, Saren came up with an answer: “Give me time to consider it, Shepard.”

“Of course,” Shepard said. “The Council agreed that as long as you remain in custody on the _Normandy,_ they’ll allow you to keep your freedom. Whether or not you’ll train me, is up to you.”

And with that, he was gone and Saren had a lot more to occupy his mind.

+-+-+-+

Garrus sat on a pile of crates in the _Normandy’s_ cargo bay. His eyes followed the action as Saren and Shepard entered their third hour of training for the day. It was time for full contact biotics. Beside him, the crumpling sound of a ration bar wrapper caused him to glance over at Jack. She usually joined them, too. Over the past three weeks, the foursome had spent most of their off hours here, helping Shepard with his Spectre training.

He was still a little amazed at the new development.

Drinking deeply from his water bottle, Garrus sighed and relaxed back into the crate behind him, one knee bent and his bare toes curling over the edge of another. His chest still rose and fell more rapidly than normal after the morning’s exertion. He’d been sparring with Shepard after Saren demonstrated some new techniques. The human, while already a more-than-competent fighter and biotic, was improving rapidly under Saren’s careful tutelage. Garrus had to admit he was picking up a few tricks too.

Shepard was well versed in several forms of human-trained combat, cultivated by years of special operatives training in the N7 unit. He was already a one-man-army, or close to it, but now he was adding turian styles to his tapestry of proper ass-kicking. Many were old combat traditions that Garrus could only wonder at where Saren learned them.

Seeing the pair in action without enemies to distract him was a sight to behold. While observing Shepard fight was interesting, he found his gaze usually fell on Saren’s form. Watching the mnemonics as he slowed the motions down for Shepard to copy and the grace with which he moved in their sparring sessions peaked Garrus’ fancy more than he’d expected it to. Needless to say, their nightly activities had increased as a result.

While twinges of envy still bit at Garrus’ hide on occasion, he had to admit Saren taking Shepard as a student was for the best. Not only was his best friend getting the training he sorely needed but it also meant Saren remained on the _Normandy_ and out of prison or worse. When Garrus was younger, training to be a Spectre had been his dream… and to be trained by Spectre Arterius, the best turian Spectre to ever live, well that would have been a true gift from the Spirits.

It wasn’t meant to be.

Rubbing his eyes, Garrus sat forward, dropping both feet to the floor and rested his elbows on his knees. The position caused his abdomen to contract in a way that made him wince. The gut shot from the Collector base had been slow to heal. Admittedly, sparring with Shepard and Saren wasn’t helping. If Chakwas knew it was bothering him, she’d probably be pissed. But Shepard needed him and it wasn’t nearly as bad as the rocket to the face. He’d live.

“Y’alright?” Jack asked around a mouthful of her energy bar.

“Fine,” he grunted in return, focusing his attention back on the fight.

Saren had just thrown Shepard across the room. The human caught himself only a moment before his head impacted the ground and cushioned the fall with his own biotics. Jack snickered. “Still jealous? That could have been your face smashed in.”

_How the hell did she know?_

“Sort of,” he half-shrugged, deciding against trying to hide his feelings. He sat up a little straighter. Shepard peeled himself off the floor, turning back to Saren only moments before the more experienced biotic attacked again. “Why, are you?”

He’d meant it as a deflection but when Jack remained quiet, he looked over at her sidelong. Her mouth had twisted in an indiscernible expression and her hands clenched in her lap around the empty wrapper.

“Kinda, yeah,” she admitted. “I never met anyone like him before. He… he gets it. You know?” she continued without ever looking at Garrus. “Saren taught me a lot without asking for anything back. He doesn’t judge,” she gestured to herself, Garrus assumed she was referring to her tattoos or maybe the scars. “It’s weird.”

Garrus hummed, one hand rising habitually to scratch at the scarred plating on his face. “He’s definitely not what I expected.” His gaze was drawn back to the sparring pair. Saren had stopped attacking and was demonstrating the move he’d just used -a crescent kick of some sort with a biotic twist.

When Jack elbowed him, he shook off his stupor and looked back to her. Instead of the pensive expression from a moment ago, a grin was in place. “That why you’re drooling?”

Without his blessing, his hand rose to rub across his chin. It was dry.

“Made you look!” she snorted before squawking as he shoved her off the crate and onto the floor. Once she was on the ground, she only laughed harder and he rolled his eyes. He liked Jack, even if she was a brat at times.

“Jack!” Saren called out.

She hopped up from the floor, ready for her turn.

Garrus turned back to the ring just in time to see Shepard pale. Jack was a fireball and he was already tired. This wouldn’t go well for him. That twinge of envy faded as Jack charged and a smile found its way to his plates when he caught Saren’s attention on him. Later that night, when he had Saren pinned to the bed, it would disappear completely. This was better, and Garrus was finally happy.

+-+-+-+

Saren sprawled out on the bed in his and Garrus’ quarters, freshly showered and well fed.

Today had been productive. A Blue Suns facility on the plant Sanctum had been luring ships in with false distress calls. It was the perfect training ground for Shepard. The Suns were a mixed bag of skill level and ability from the occasional heavy mech to the more frequent cannon fodder. Together, with Garrus in tow, they had stormed the base.

While Shepard had done the majority of the work, Saren had been there to observe and Garrus was present more as a backup. There was no reason to risk his new protégé’s life. Having a sniper watching from the rear ensured he could focus on Shepard who, in turn, could focus on the mercenaries.

In passing, he thought he heard Garrus grumble something about losing his headcount high-score but ignored it. His mission now was to ensure Shepard became the best Spectre possible and that meant learning how to handle missions on his own. Garrus would simply have to manage to be his eyes instead of his sword.

A ping from the door pulled Saren out of his head. He sat up, mandibles tilting with curiosity. He hadn’t been expecting anyone other than Garrus, who wouldn’t request entry. It was late. “Come in,” he called out.

Shepard stood in the doorway, a grave expression sat on his face. His jaw was tight and eyes hard. “Saren,” he greeted. “We’ve got a mission.”

The turian swung his feet over the edge of the bed, allowing them to rest on the floor. “Urgent, I assume?”

He nodded, stepping deeper into the room so that the door closed. “I just got a communique from Admiral Hackett. It’s… more of a favour than an Alliance or Council sanctioned mission.”

That information intrigued Saren enough to make him stand. He gestured at the couches, offering Shepard a seat. The human took it and continued with the explanation: “There’s an operative deep in batarian space who’s been captured.”

“Batarian?” Saren queried as he sat down across from him in his habitual place. His robe pooled on the cushions around him as he crossed one ankle over the opposing knee.

“Mhm,” the human nodded. That information alone was enough to explain why this Admiral was being so secretive. The Hegemony and the Alliance were not on good terms at the best of times. “That’s why he called me. The Alliance can’t do anything and they’ve arrested her on terrorism charges.”

Saren drummed his talons on his raised knee, considering the situation. “And this Admiral wants you to, what? Rescue her?”

“Essentially,” Shepard’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before going to the viewport. “He thinks she may have proof the Reapers are coming.”

“I thought the Alliance denies the Reaper threat.”

The human sighed. “The Alliance as a whole does but Anderson has convinced a few to our side. Hackett is one of them. If the rumour is true and she has evidence, I don’t think we can pass this opportunity up.”

“You’re correct,” Saren agreed. He regarded Shepard but the man’s body language didn’t change. He still appeared closed off, the line of his shoulders stiff. “What has you nervous?”

Without turning away from the window, Shepard said: “He asked me to go alone.”

“Ah.” That was not ideal in Saren’s mind. Batarian prisons were not a welcome place, typically packed with guards and security systems. Not impenetrable for a Spectre, but risky.

Perhaps this was how the Alliance operated, sending in an operative alone when it suited them. One whom they could just as easily write off if the situation went awry. It wasn’t how the Hierarchy worked. A batarian prison would constitute a Blackwatch team. Even as a Spectre, Saren would have at the least taken to evaluate all of his options and not run in blind as the Admiral expected Shepard to do.

“Hackett is worried they’ll kill her if they see an armed contingent,” he continued.

Saren scoffed, the concept nearly laughable. “He’s asked you to go on a mission that requires discretion. Does he realize you’re a Vanguard?”

The ghost of a smile pulled at the corner of Shepard’s mouth. “Apparently not.”

“Perhaps this is an opportunity to test your skill set,” Saren said. “We will go alone, rescue this Operative, and ideally find evidence of the Reapers in the process.”

“‘We?’” Shepard questioned, though not without heat. “Hackett won’t appreciate that.”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t have a choice. You are my protégé. I cannot allow you to go on a mission like this alone and still consider myself a competent mentor.” Saren tilted his head to the side, his mandible sliding into a muted smirk. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Shepard laughed in the form of a breath of air exhaled sharply through his nose. He then stood up, the tension falling out of him as he released a breath. “I’ll send you the dossier. The batarian outpost is on Aratoht. I’ll give Joker the coordinates now and we should be there by morning.”

“Understood.” Saren followed him to the door. “Check with Ms. Goto, she may have a stealth unit that will be compatible with your armour.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

His mandibles shifted as he considered the question. “Pack enough rations for three days, batarian food is edible but vile as far as I’ve been told.”

Shepard laughed. “Massani might have mentioned that once or twice. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Saren said as he watched Shepard head for the opposing end of the hall where the thief had made herself at home. He was about to go back inside when Garrus stepped out of the lavatory, a towel over his shoulders and shirtless. Loose sleeping pants were slung low on his hips, leaving an enticing amount of hide visible.

By the time Saren managed to raise his gaze to Garrus’ face, a lopsided grin had settled on his mandibles -the injured one resting lower on his maxilla than the right. He stepped back, giving Garrus the space to pass him on the way into the room.

Once the door closed, giving them privacy, Garrus dropped the towel over the back of Saren’s desk chair and moved his dexterous fingers to the drawstring at the front of his pants. Saren held his gaze only as long as it took for the tie to come undone.

“EDI, what is our ETA to Aratoht?” Saren asked without looking away from the lean line of his partner’s waist.

 _“Thirteen hours and four minutes,”_ she informed him.

“Thanks, EDI,” Garrus cut in before Saren could reply on his own. He let the fabric go and it slid down to the floor. “Log us out, please.”

_“Logging you out.”_

Before Garrus could step out of his pants, Saren was stalking toward him. He planned to make good use of the next twelve hours and thirty-four minutes before he met up with Shepard and they went planetside.

He reached out to trace a droplet of water that had begun to trail down Garrus’ chest. The point of his talon caught it and he used the moisture to trace a line along his collar and up the side of his throat. Saren watched Garrus’ icy-blue eyes flutter shut and his head drop back to give him access. Garrus’ mouth plates were slightly parted. His breath wavered with anticipation and Saren watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

Stepping in closer, Saren traced the same line with his tongue. Garrus’ scent filled his nose, intoxicating as the natural smells mixed with his plate scrub. He smelled clean and warm. The aroma he’d come to associate with home.

Saren’s free hand grabbed hold of Garrus’ hip, guiding him to sit. He followed and continued to indulge his senses with the taste and smell and feel of his partner below him. At the sound of rumbled enjoyment, Saren closed his eyes. He wanted to focus on committing this, committing him, to memory.

“Mhm.” He didn’t stop the shiver as Garrus’ hands found his waist. Warm talons traced the lines of his plates and devoted the hide just enough to leave small white scratches in their wake, the kind that disappeared within a few seconds of being left.

Garrus’ voice was husky as he said: “Like that?”

While Saren’s mandibles shifted into a grin, he nipped at the younger turian’s throat and didn’t give him an answer. Instead, he continued loving on the warm expanse of hide in front of him, laving along his pulse point and at the sensitive tissue beneath his unscarred mandible. All the while, Garrus’ hands quested closer to his seam. They ghosted along the length of it through Saren’s pants, causing him to draw in a tight breath.

“What was that?” Garrus whispered and repeated the motion. “I didn’t hear you.”

Saren grabbed for Garrus’ wrists, pushing him down and pinning them to the bed above his head before sliding up his body to straddle his hips. He pulled back enough to see the grin on his partner’s face. “I do.”

“Then come and get me.”

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Tali in the medical bay is a little hand-wavy to make the science work... but that image is just too dang cute!
> 
> <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>  02 : 03 : 25 : 21  
> 02 : 03 : 25 : 20  
> 02 : 03 : 25 : 19  
> 02 : 03 : 25 : 18  
>   
> “That’s our countdown to Arrival,” Kenson told them. Somehow her nonchalance about it made the number seem all the more real. “When that gets to zero... the Reapers will have come. Just over two days and counting. Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I didn't want to post this on Christmas... you'll see why in a little bit. Enjoy!
> 
> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Framing Hanley - Hear Me Now**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TH8vW0SXu8)

14 - Faults and Fortitude

 

\- - -

“You’ll take point when we reach the prison,” Saren said as he checked his pistol over one last time and attached it to the maglock on his hip. The shuttle swayed beneath them as they approached their touchdown site and he gripped the handrail above his head a little tighter.

On the bench across from him, Shepard nodded. “Right.”

“Any final questions?”

“No. I’ve got everything I need,” he patted his chest plate where the infiltration module would have been installed and grinned. “In and out. Quiet.”

Saren chuffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Shepard.”

The human rolled his eyes, though the curve of his mouth removed any perceived vitriol from the action, and stood up to approach the hatch. When the doors opened, the sound of the engines was overtaken by the pouring rain. Saren flicked his mandibles, annoyed. Rain would help to mask the sound of their movements, but with the rain came mud. At a batarian encampment, digitigrade imprints in the ground would not go unnoticed for long. Rain would make footprints more visible and their task harder. He attached his helmet and followed Shepard out into the forest near the prison’s maintenance entrance.

As discussed, the human took the lead. A quick hack had them through the doors and into the prison’s underbelly of tunnels and rubble. It was not a welcoming place, Saren observed, after having to put down three aggressive varren not five minutes into their trek.

“Damnit,” Shepard swore, silencing their barks with a brief sweep of his arm. The biotic wave sent the pair of them careening into a wall. Not the most silent maneuver, but effective, Saren could admit. “I hate killing varren.”

“Always expect varren, Shepard.”

"Yeah, I know." Shepard grimaced at the crumpled bodies against the far wall. "But I don't have to like it." He stepped over one of the corpses Saren left in his wake, more carefully checking his corners now that they knew there were more than just batarians in these caves. “The batarians must send their prisoners down here to die.”

“The lucky ones, perhaps.” Saren followed a few paces behind. “But if I know batarians, it’s far more likely they throw prisoners down here together for sport.”

He heard the human grit his teeth over the comms. “We have to find Doctor Kenson.”

“We will, Shepard. Patience.”

Moving through the prison was a slow task, although ensuring they weren’t seen wasn't as difficult as expected. The guards were split into small groups, small enough that with some ingenuity Shepard was able to manage them on his own. Stealth kills with his combat knife and silenced pistol as needed. Saren merely needed to follow as his shadow, making a suggestion or two as Shepard asked.

It did not appear he was as much of a lost cause when it came to infiltration as Saren had feared. He was more tactful than Nihlus had been and more aware of his surroundings than Avitus. More and more as they worked together in close quarters, Saren was seeing why Nihlus had put him forward for Spectre candidacy.

By the time they made it through to where Kenson was being held, Saren had a bad feeling sinking into his gut. The guards discussed an artifact and he was reminded too much of Desolace. Then there were mentions of destroying a relay. He hoped this woman would have answers for them once they escaped, there was no time to discuss it now.

Shepard swept into her cell first, killing the guard with a swift blow to his spinal column. As the batarian crumpled, Kenson went wide-eyed. “Who are you? What are doing?”

“Doctor Kenson?” the Spectre confirmed as he rounded the containment device and began working to unlock it. “I’m Commander Shepard. I’m here to get you out.”

“Commander Shepard?” she asked, dumbstruck. “I’d heard you were alive. Hackett must have received my message.”

“We’re not safe here,” the manacles at her wrists came apart and she removed the collar from her neck herself. “Can you walk?”

“I’m fine,” she stumbled forward. “Just give me a moment....”

Saren shook his head. Still helmeted and not yet introduced, he took the lead. “We have to go. Now.”

Kenson looked at him skeptically. Her eyes narrowed and body language all pulled inward, as though she was attempting to close herself off. “Who’s he?”

“A friend,” Shepard told her.

She looked from Saren’s armoured form back to Shepard, uncertain for a few more moments before letting it go. “If we can find a console, I can hack security... make us an escape path.”

“Then we’ll find one,” Shepard told her and then took point at the exit. “Let’s go!”

+-+-+-+

Fighting off hordes of batarian guards was… unpleasant. Saren had a warm itch at the base of his skull by the time they’d made it to the shuttle bay. His armour was splattered with gore and there was a small hitch in his right leg. Shepard fared about the same, having put his shields to the test when he took a shotgun blast to the chest to protect Kenson. The woman appeared fine, save a few bruises.

Mentally, Saren noted the tasks he wanted to add to Shepard’s training regiment. His technical computer skills were lacking, too often he let other members of his team work through hacks. As a Spectre, he needed to be able to rely on himself alone.

There was also the matter of trust. Saren felt the human was too quick to hand Kenson a pistol when the alarms started blaring. It was entirely possible she wasn’t worthy of it and could betray them. Despite the help another ally gave them, the risk wasn’t worth the reward.

All things considered, the mission remained a success.

They boarded a shuttle and Saren took the controls. Knowing how well Shepard piloted the Hammerhead -not well- he didn’t want to risk further injury to either of them. His hands breezed across the panel, setting them up for a quick departure. Once they were airborne and out of range of any potential anti-aircraft weapons, he set the autopilot.

Kenson stood over his shoulder, watching the moving map expand as they exited the atmosphere. “We should be well out of range before they get their security measures unscrambled,” she said. “Let me input the coordinates for the Project Station.”

Gesturing to the panel, Saren moved back enough for her to reach around him and press the keys. Their destination wasn’t too far off, he noted.

“Do you think they’ll come after you?” Shepard asked from the behind them. He was leaning on the bulkhead, his arms crossed over his chest and his helmet removed for the moment. Again, too trusting.

“I’m not taking any chances,” Kenson told him as she stepped away from the controls and walked past Shepard into the hold. The Commander turned to watch her go while Saren remained in the pilot’s seat. “Batarians don’t take kindly to humans who plan to destroy their mass relays.”

“So the charges against you are true,” Shepard prompted. It wasn’t quite the question Saren would have used, as he preferred to lead in. Perhaps when they returned to the ship, he could have Garrus teach him some C-Sec interrogation tactics. Better he learned those before the… _messier_ Spectre ones.

“Well. To be fair, that’s about half the story,” she admitted. Saren heard her take a seat. “My people and I were here investigating rumours of Reaper technology out in the fringes of this system.”

“I guess you found something.”

Kenson hummed in agreement. “We found proof that the Reapers will be arriving in this system. When they get here, they’ll use its mass relay to travel throughout the galaxy. We call it the ‘Alpha Relay.’ From here, the Reapers can invade anywhere in the galaxy.”

“So you decided to destroy it.”

“Exactly.”

Saren had stiffened at her words, but the thought they were already working on a way to stop the Reapers from coming helped him to keep air in his lungs. The Citadel was their original entry-point, it only made sense that they would need to search for another vector. This ‘Alpha Relay’ needed to be destroyed. The galaxy was not ready to fight the Reapers.

They needed more time.

Saren listened as Kenson explained her plan and Shepard posed questions. An asteroid should do the trick. But there was one question his newest protégé had yet to ask. Standing, he loomed behind Shepard in the doorway.

“I still do not see how you learned about this supposed invasion,” he said, keeping his tone flat and posture impassive beneath his armour.

She glared at him. “The evidence came from what we call Object Rho, a Reaper artifact we discovered among the asteroids near the relay itself.”

“An artifact?” he prompted. Though he showed no sign outwardly, his concerns about Kenson’s loyalties increased. His tongue slid along the back of his fangs, the sharp tang of blood setting his focus and keeping his adrenaline levels high. Beside him, Shepard’s weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“When we get back to the station, I’ll explain everything and provide copies of all our notes on the artifact.”

“If you’re working near a Reaper artifact, how have you avoided indoctrination?” Saren asked, taking a step past Shepard and into the hold. He knew indoctrination better than anyone, he not only studied it, but he had felt it… more than once.

“We’ve been very careful,” Kenson explained coolly, her eyebrow raised at him. Saren stifled a growl and wished he could wipe the smug superiority off her face. Careful wasn’t enough. “We know what we’re dealing with. You’re not speaking to a child. I saw what Sovereign did at the Citadel. Trust me -I know what’s at stake.”

Saren doubted it.

“The stakes are too high,” Shepard said as he stepped out from behind Saren. “If you were willing to destroy a whole system over this, I want to see your proof.”

Kenson blinked twice, looking between the two armed soldiers in the shuttle. They still hadn’t been properly introduced and he didn’t plan on revealing himself, not now. They gave her little choice. “I guess I can’t argue with that. Give me a moment.”

They parted so that she could pass them on the way to the communications unit. In the meantime, Saren switched off his speaker and spoke to Shepard through their private comm.

“They may be indoctrinated, Shepard,” he said. “Do not trust her.” The human nodded, giving him the hand signal for ‘understood’, then a second that meant ‘stay together’. “Agreed.”

Before they could speak more, Kenson rejoined them. “All set. Just sit back and relax. We’ll be there in no time!”

+-+-+-+

If arriving on the Project Base wasn’t ominous enough on its own, what met Shepard and Saren when they stepped off the shuttle was a number that loomed so close to zero that they both stopped dead in their tracks.

02 : 03 : 25 : 21

02 : 03 : 25 : 20

02 : 03 : 25 : 19

02 : 03 : 25 : 18

“That’s our countdown to Arrival,” Kenson told them. Somehow her nonchalance about it made the number seem all the more real. “When that gets to zero... the Reapers will have come. Just over two days and counting. Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Saren felt his gut go tight at the implication but it was Shepard who beat him to the question: “How do you know that’s accurate?”

“The artifact has been giving off pulses at definite intervals since we found it,” she said as she began walking deeper into the base, leading them on. “The intervals have been decreasing at a steady rate.”

The two Spectres shared a look. “Helmet on,” Saren told Shepard, who complied without argument. When they approached Kenson, she looked between them skeptically.

“You don’t need those here,” she said.

Saren could have laughed, instead, he let his protégé reply.

“Precaution,” Shepard told her. It would do nothing against indoctrination, but Saren didn’t put it past the Reapers to have Collector swarms here or at the least indoctrinated soldiers ready to shoot them at a moment’s notice. Saren’s eternal skepticism was apparent and Shepard seemed to be picking up on it, his hand began hovering closer to his pistol.

Kenson shook her head. “Fine. Then let’s show you that proof.”

After sharing a brief look with Saren, Kenson led them out of the hangar. She talked about the station as they walked, giving them the basic layout and explaining the current status of the Project itself. Saren maintained an air of quiet attentiveness, yet all the while he mentally took note of every distinctive scratch in the metal desks, every apparent mark on the walls, every twist and turn they made as they navigated through the facility. By the way Shepard was casually scanning, he was doing the same.

Kenson said the Project was still ready. They could delay the Reapers today, before leaving the station. That thought allowed Saren little breathing room. There wouldn’t be any more than that until the relay was destroyed.

When they reached the door, Kenson gave them a smile and flourished her hand as it slid open to display the labs and the artifact itself. “Commander Shepard, I give you Object Rho!”

Any semblance of security Saren had felt disintegrated.

“You... you have the Reaper artifact just sitting here... out in the open!” Shepard had turned on her, stunned and angry.

“When we found it,” she entered the lab, turning to face them with her back to the artifact. Her arms spread wide. “It showed me a vision of the Reapers’ arrival.”

“Kenson, this is not good.”

“Shepard-” Saren began, already reaching for his pistol. He chanced a glance at the man, seeing he was doing the same.

His head… it… it wasn’t quiet anymore. On the edge of his hearing, something was coming.

“Give it a moment,” Kenson encouraged. “It’ll give you the proof you need.”

Saren could feel the artifact, even before it began glowing in front of them. A scream began in the back of his head and only once he fell to his knees did he realize it was his own voice. Had he not been wearing his helmet, he would’ve left gouges in the back of his neck again. It hurt. It more than hurt, it was agony.

Before his eyes visions of the Reapers appeared.

_“You will obey!”_

“No! No! No!” He yelled the word over and over, trying to drown the Reaper out.

Something hard impacted his side, shoving him to the ground where Saren curled in on himself, his gun clattered away across the deck. It knocked a bit of sense into him and he could see Shepard crouched over him, a barrier surrounding them both. Kenson was limping away as gunfire erupted around them.

_“Do not resist. Give yourself over and be spared.”_

Shepard’s barrier wavered and the human jerked back with the impact of a bullet. Saren knew he would not last without help. He had to move. He had to resist. Not only was the galaxy counting on him, but his protégé was. _Garrus was._ He had to get up.

_“You cannot stop us.”_

Pushing himself off the floor was the hardest thing Saren had ever done. It was like the station’s gravity had been increased tenfold. Shepard did not stop shooting to look at him, he kept his sights on their enemies, human and mechanical alike. Together, they could stop them. Even as the maelstrom in his head blocked out the sounds of gunfire, Saren fought.

_“Your galaxy is in sight. Your final days are at hand.”_

A biotic blast, not unlike the one Saren had used on the Collector base, cleared the immediate area. Giving Shepard breathing room and a chance to drag him to his feet. An assault rifle was thrust into his hands, his pistol was long gone.

Shepard’s shoulder clipped his as they moved to cover. “Stay with me, Saren.”

“I am trying, Shepard,” he bit out, wincing at the pain the movement caused. His head pounded as though someone was repeatedly slamming a fist into it. His mind was not his own and he did not know how long he could keep control. “If it comes to it, shoot me.”

Shepard spared him a glance, his voice hard as he said: “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

Saren could only grunt in answer, another wave was upon them. A YMIR of all things. The machine set up and began shooting at them in the seconds after they started moving. Working in tandem with armour piercing ammunition, they whittled it down. Saren kept the various humans away while Shepard threw biotic warp after warp at the mech.

By the time it exploded, it wasn’t just him that faltered. Shepard was fading too, gasping for air and stumbling. The artifact was impacting them both. He didn’t know if that meant Shepard was indoctrinated too, or if this was like the Collector base and once they were clear, it would disappear. What Saren did know was that he could not trust himself. He was compromised.

Another stab of pain hit, sending Saren back to his knees. Beyond him he faintly noted, Shepard fell too. It was too much. The screaming, too loud. The last thing he remembered as blissful darkness took over was Kenson’s voice and her gold-glowing eyes.

“Take them to the med bay,” she said. “The Reapers will want them both alive.”

+-+-+-+

The world came into focus around him, blurred at the edges first before becoming more clear. It went from stable to vigorously shaking, as though Saren was in the middle of an earthquake. It took him a moment to figure out what was happening.

It was Shepard.

The human was yelling at him but his voice sounded as if he was underwater. It… it was important, whatever he was saying. Squinting against the bright overhead lights, Saren was hardly prepared for it when Shepard backhanded him across the face. The sharp impact woke him up instantly and caused the clawing voices at the edge of his mind to quiet. Unfortunately, it was one irritation replaced with another as the sound of a blaring alarm and Shepard’s shouting filled in the gap left behind.

“Saren!”

The turian grabbed his own jaw, grimacing against the pain of what felt like a dislocated mandible. Still, he felt like himself. “Shepard,” his voice was rough with remnants of sleep. “What’s going on?”

Saren sat up with a groan. He was in some sort of medical facility, in his undersuit. Shepard was standing beside him, half-armoured already.

“They knocked us out,” he explained as he grabbed Saren’s arm and hauled him off the bed. “We don’t have much time.”

Grabbing onto him for support, Saren let Shepard walk him over to where their armour had been stashed. While he suited up, his protégé finished suiting himself and then headed for the door and started the hack. Their weapons were missing. They would have to manage with what they could pick up off the Project guards and their biotics.

Sedatives coursed through his system and Saren could feel the residual drag weighing him down. His movements were sloppy, hands uncoordinated as he slotted a fresh thermal clip into a pistol laying on the floor by a broken Loki mech. A brief look at the timer on the medical bay wall told him they had very little time indeed.

00 : 01 : 36 : 42

“An… an hour?” he rasped as he met up with Shepard.

The human grunted an assent as he pulled his helmet on. “We have to destroy the relay.”

“Agreed.”

Together, Saren and Shepard headed back into the facility, gunning down anyone they came across without mercy or remorse. There was no time. Kenson yelled instructions to her minions over the comms and the guards tried and failed to slow them down. Between himself and Shepard, moving as one cohesive unit, every pitiful soul that stepped in their way met the same grisly end.

Somehow, Saren managed to stay on course through the nagging whispers hadn’t stopped. It was like before Illos all over again. The thought caused a surge of rage to manifest itself in a biotic sweep that snapped the necks of several guards in a single swoop.

He’d never been free.

Saren roared prior to warping a man down the middle of his body, splitting him in two like a piece of fruit.

He couldn’t be.

If Shepard begrudged his violent approach, he chose not to comment on it. If anything, the human was working with near the same ferocity. Shepard appeared to feel no pain as another guard tackled him. He just used the momentum to roll on top of the man and then slit his throat with his omnitool blade.

Through the living quarters and into the labs they went, avoiding Object Rho by as wide a margin as they could. They had to get to Project Control before it was too late. Terminals they came across told the story of Kenson and her team’s slow slide into indoctrination. It was the same as his own. Even the second time, he’d never fully realized it.

When they finally made it to their destination, Shepard approached the computer terminal and a VI met them. _“Welcome to Project Control.”_

“I want to activate the Project,” Shepard told it without a moment’s hesitation.

The screen flashed, a count appearing in the bottom right corner of the screen. The number began increasing as it reported: _“Warning. Activating the Project will result in an estimated three hundred and five thousand casualties. Do you wish to continue?”_

Shepard jolted back from the terminal, his eyes wide with horror. “Fuck.”

“There is no other option,” Saren told him. Stepping up next to the human, he put a hand on his shoulder. As a Spectre, he’d sacrificed lives before. Never this many, but it didn’t matter. Even with the weight of the Reapers screaming at him, Saren knew what they needed to do. “Trillions depend on it.”

He could hear the man’s jaw creak as Shepard gritted his teeth. Conviction bloomed on his features, resolve strong as they hit the switch. Together, they doomed three hundred thousand lives in the blink of an eye. It was in that moment that Saren knew for certain Nihlus had been correct in recommending Shepard to the Spectres. Shepard would do whatever it took to keep the galaxy at peace even at the cost of his own Spirit, not just his life.

The station beneath them shook as the mass effect engines powered up, the inertial dampeners taking a moment to compensate fully for the added acceleration forces. Saren’s hand on Shepard’s shoulder -the very one that had nearly killed him, holding him aloft by the throat- was all that kept the human on his feet. That small realization helped to keep the whispers at bay for just a little longer.

 _“Project activation in progress,”_ the VI said as the room stabilized. _”Warning: Collision with the mass relay is imminent. Begin evacuation procedures.”_

“We- we just…” Shepard’s voice was faint as if he could hardly breathe.

Saren gripped his shoulder harder. “There is still time, make a call. Tell them to evacuate.”

“Right,” he nodded, his hand rising to key his comm. “All colonists living in the Bahak system: This is-”

But it was too late. Kenson’s face appeared on the terminal in front of them, cutting off the communication before Shepard could finish. She doomed them all to an early grave. Like those left on Virmire, they too would become ash.

 _“Shepard! No! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”_ Kenson all but screeched into the mic, her movements erratic and eyes wild. _“You leave me no choice. If we can’t stop this asteroid, it must be destroyed!”_

With a quick sweep of his hand, Saren killed her feed and brought the VI back up. “Tell us where to find Kenson!” he barked.

 _“Doctor Kenson is travelling to the reactor core module,”_ it answered, giving them a map of the facility for a brief moment before the indoctrinated Project lead’s face returned.

_“Because of you, everyone on this rock will be obliterated!”_

It did not matter. Shepard and Saren were already moving for the door. Saren took down the two guards that tried to block their exit, Shepard swept around the corner first and tossed a third, helpless guard into the wall -shattering her helmet. They moved in unison once again, destroying everything in their path. While his own biotics were frayed at the edges, Shepard’s remained crisp and unyielding. His student had a better handle on himself.

“Saren, you good?” Shepard asked him once they were behind cover in the next room and slotting fresh thermal clips into their pistols.

There was worry in his voice, Saren could hear it and for that reason alone he momentarily considered lying. It would be fruitless long-term, but he hated admitting defeat. He always had. Shepard needed him at is best and this was all Saren had left to give, he was barely managing to keep the Reaper’s hold away let alone be any sort of competent partner. A brief flick of his crest preceded his answer. “No. I am compromised.”

“Fuck,” Shepard swore, his fist slamming into the barrier protecting them.

“Indeed,” Saren replied, popping out of cover for a moment to shoot a lone guard stupid enough to try and make a run at them. “We need to ensure the project succeeds,” Saren reiterated as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to focus. “I have control right now. I do not know how long it will last.”

Shepard took a long breath as he took a turn above the barrier. When he returned, he looked Saren in the eye. “It has to be the proximity to the artifact, like earlier.”

“It is possible,” he acquiesced, though internally Saren doubted it was that simple. “Regardless, we should split up. I will create a distraction while you go after Kenson.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Saren,” Shepard said looking him over from crest to talon. They’d been fighting together long enough for him to know all of Saren’s subtle tells. The only Spirit who would know more about him was Garrus. “The guards are indoctrinated. They’re not reacting as they should.”

“What choice do we have?” Saren shook his head, his mandibles falling loosely under his helmet. “I do not know how long I can hold them off.”

Shepard grit his teeth again, realizing Saren was right. “Damn it.”

“Go now, Shepard!” Saren demanded, rising from behind the bulkhead to begin taking shots at the guards who’d continued to advance on them while they made a plan. “I will cover you!”

This time, the human did not argue. He got up and ran in the direction of the reactor core while Saren took the opposing hallway, deeper into the base. His mission was to create as much carnage as possible, go back toward the artifact where he knew the guards would gather. The first time he’d seen an artifact with Desolas, he hadn’t known why the indoctrinated turians were drawn to it, now he did.

He was drawn in, the Reaper’s influence beating against his Spirit.

The more direct a threat he could be, the fewer men there would be left to attack Shepard. The human would be a secondary threat to the artifact. It was all he could think to do, which was why when he came across a guard with a grenade belt, he took them and threw two down a separate hallway on the way back to the science labs.

Carnage was something Saren knew well, and, even in this state, could handle.

If anything, the constant stream of explosions helped to drown out the Reaper’s voices inside his mind. His amp warmed the base of his skull, his hands shook from the lack of food over the past two days and his throat burned with unspoken fears.

The base seemed to have an endless supply of goons. As expected, they swarmed him and Saren relied on every tool left available to destroy them all, one-by-one. His anger had been honed into a weapon over the years, his biotics flaring brightly despite the fraying. A singularity field pulled a group of them together, only to allow him a chance to huck another grenade into the mess.

Their screams helped quell the voices, too.

Engrossed in the slaughter, he barely noticed Shepard over the comms as he confronted Kenson. The mission was the only thing he could keep at the forefront of his mind, his desire to live was only from want of seeing his partner again. If they did not succeed then it wouldn’t matter. He would die. Shepard would die. And Garrus… he’d be left alone until the Reapers came for him too.

Saren would not allow that to happen.

So he fought.

The pull of the artifact weakened him but soon enough the guards all laid dead at his feet and no more approached his location. He tossed the last of his grenades into the artifact room, hoping they would at least dent Object Rho but he was unwilling to go beyond the threshold lest it attempt to overtake him again. Breathing hard, his chest heaving, Saren had nothing left to do except run for the reactor core in search of more enemies.

Still, he could hear the constant whispers. It felt almost like insects crawling beneath his hide, trying to escape. Given enough time, he’d cut his tongue to ribbons trying to stave them off. Saren could taste the blood in his mouth and his nose was full of the overwhelming scent. It helped, so he kept on.

 _“You’ve done nothing, Shepard! I can still override power to the engines!”_ Kenson yelled out loud enough for Saren to hear over Shepard’s comm unit. He must have found her. _“Try to stop me!”_

 _“Step away from the reactor!”_ Shepard demanded.

Saren picked up his pace, gunning down the single guard he found along the way with a clean headshot that would have made Garrus proud. Kenson’s screeches increased in volume and sharpened in pitch like a banshee. _“You’ve ruined everything! I can’t hear the whispers anymore.”_

_“Turn around. Now!”_

“Shoot her, Shepard!” Saren growled into the mic. Shepard was taking too much time, time they did not have. If Kenson was at the reactor, she could destroy the Project… cause them to fail and the Reapers to come.

_“You’ve taken them away from me. I will never see the Reapers’ arrival. All you had to do was stay asleep. None of this had to happen.”_

_“Kenson! You don’t have to do this!”_ Shepard ignored his warning, still idiotically trying to talk her down, just as Garrus had done with him when they’d been on the Citadel all those years ago. Perhaps that moment played in Shepard’s mind as he spoke, giving the human some sort of inane hope for success. But this situation wasn’t equivalent. Shepard didn’t have the same kind of sway with Kenson that Garrus had possessed with him…. _Still_ possessed with him. _“We can get off this asteroid!”_

 _“No,”_ Kenson rebuffed, her voice suddenly flat and barely audible. _“We cannot.”_

An explosion came both over the comm unit and he could hear it in the Project Base as well. It spurred Saren into a full on sprint. “Shepard!” he called out.

There was no answer.

“Fuck!” Saren swore, skidding to a stop behind a bulkhead to avoid the fire from a pair of guards. Spinning out of cover, he shot the first man dead with a brief barrage before bodily slamming the other into a stack of crates, snapping his neck. Saren didn’t confirm they were dead, he just continued running.

Once he arrived in the reactor core, Saren could see Kenson’s body had become mostly a charred mess of flesh and Shepard had been knocked back by the force of the explosion. Sprinting for the console first, Saren made his priority the mission. No matter how much he wanted to check in on his student, the mission had to come first.

“Is the Project on course?” he demanded of the VI.

 _“Affirmative,”_ the computer informed him before spouting: “ _Warning: Collision imminent.”_

Saren tried the external communication system and found it inoperative. Their only chance to survive this was the shuttles that the VI directed him to. Shoving off the console, Saren moved to Shepard’s side and checked to see that he was still breathing. Thankfully, he was, and the groan he emitted when Saren hefted him over his shoulder punctuated that fact, at least for now. Currently, they didn’t have the luxury or the time to worry about spinal injuries.

His head, like Kenson’s, had quieted in the past few minutes. Despite the blaring alarms, the silence inside his head was deafening. He prayed to the Spirits that meant he was free for a least a little longer. He just needed to get them back to the _Normandy._

Once he reached the top level of the station, the Project VI saw it fit to remind him of their time limit. _“Warning: Alpha Relay collision imminent. Evacuation is recommended.”_

Though tempted to shout at the VI, he knew that it would be as fruitless as lying to Shepard. The computer did not care. Saren pushed himself to the limit of his physical ability, sprinting along the exterior of the station and toward the comm tower. Only a few pitiful souls were left in his way and he obliterated anyone he came across.

Reaching the console, he laid the unconscious human down on the ground and then whipped through the controls, managing to get them working after a few brief attempts. _“Normandy,_ come in _Normandy_. This is the ground team. _Normandy,_ do you copy?”

There was no answer.

Instead, what appeared before him was a spectral image, the very center of his dread. Standing ten storeys tall, a massive orange projection fazed into existence. The Reaper looked down upon him like a great titan observing a mere insect. It was the bringer of his pain and torment.

The _Harbinger._

 _“Saren.”_ its otherworldly voice boomed, loudly echoing inside his head. It was only after he gasped for breath that he realized it had brought him to his knees with a single word. _“You have become an annoyance.”_

Saren’s eyes slammed shut. He could taste the bile rising in his throat and his mandibles fell slack against his maxilla. On the ground in front of him, his hands clenched into fists as he tried with all his might to fight for control over himself.

_“You fight against inevitability. Dust struggling against cosmic winds.”_

Saren did not believe that, not anymore. Not when he had Garrus at his side and Shepard at his back. Still, Saren felt the Reaper’s power, pulling his hand toward the gun on his hip. _Harbinger_ wanted him to kill Shepard, just as _Sovereign_ had forced him to kill Nihlus. The whispers grew louder behind its voice: _“Kill. Kill. Kill.”_

The muscles in his arm cramped. He wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, but Saren swore he could feel the fibres tearing. He refused to become a pawn, not again. He refused to kill his charge and would do anything to stop it from happening. The galaxy needed Shepard.

 _“This seems a victory to you,”_ _Harbinger_ sounded almost smug despite the words’ monotone delivery. _“A star system sacrificed. But even now, your greatest civilizations are doomed to fall. Your leaders will beg to serve us. Kill him, Saren. Begin their fall.”_

No.

No, he would not.

Saren could feel the trickle of blood begin to slide down his face as his nose began to bleed. It welled up in the collar of his helmet.

“You may be correct,” Saren struggled to breathe. His talons curled around the grip of his pistol without his consent. _Harbinger_ forced his hand. He swallowed, trying to clear his throat and pull in more air. “Maybe we cannot win. But we will fight you regardless. _I_ will fight you.”

Reapers weren’t prone to laughter. That was purely an evolutionary trait organics alone possessed. But as the _Harbinger_ watched him quietly, motionless, Saren was instilled with the same sense of self-satisfied mockery emanating from it. The gun came away from its maglock, the muzzle shaking as Saren continued to mentally wage war for ownership over his own mind.

His resolve would not falter. He knew there was a solution. Even as his vision began to dim at the edges, Saren knew what he had to do. His final words would be rebellion. His last action, defiance. The Reapers would not win.

“However ‘insignificant’ we might be,” Saren roared. “We will fight!”

The pistol rose, shaking the whole time. Its direction changed, swinging from Shepard’s crumpled form around to himself. His arm screamed as he positioned the gun underneath his own jaw, the burning in his muscles would not last long. This time would be the last. Saren would not let the Reapers control him. Not anymore.

 _“Know this as you die in vain,”_ _Harbinger_ boomed. “ _Your species will all fall. Arrival will not be stopped.”_

A single gunshot rang out.

The whispers ended. The world faded to black. And Saren’s last thoughts were of Garrus.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**  
>   
>  It had to be Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**NF - Paralyzed**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHhHUZsXTBk)

15 - Faults and Fortitude

\- - -

Garrus sat in the _Normandy’s_ cockpit, clenching and unclenching his fists against his armoured thighs. He’d taken up the navigator’s seat whenever he wasn’t busy with calibrations. The hours ticked by silently, the quiet only broken by the drive core humming below them. He and Joker had long since run out of things to talk about. Two days and nothing.

He gritted his teeth.

EDI had stopped suggesting that he eat or sleep the day before. Garrus knew his eyes were sunken in their sockets and his stomach occasionally growled in discontent, but he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t sleep. What was supposed to be a simple pickup had turned into a case of two missing operatives. To say he was worried would be an understatement.

Releasing a long sigh, Garrus leaned back into the seat. His armour creaked as he adjusted a little to get more comfortable. Last time he’d gone below deck, he’d had to revert back three iterations in his algorithms to fix the problems he’d caused with his own inattention. It was better that he stayed away from them. One hand rose to rub across his brow. At the least, he should find a ration bar -maybe some kava.

“What the shit?” Jeff said, more to himself than to Garrus.

Regardless, it broke the turian out of his daze. He jolted forward, his head whipping around to look at the human. “What happened?”

The pilot wasn’t looking at him. His attention was on his console, which appeared to have just sprung to life. Garrus stood and quickly approached, looking over his shoulder to see what was going on. A red circle surrounded something on radar, and it was approaching what appeared to Garrus like the relay icon. It was flashing. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“It’s… damn,” Jeff blew out a harsh breath. One hand knocked the rim of his cap upward so that he could pinch his the bridge of his nose. “EDI, tell me that’s not an asteroid.”

_“I am sorry, Jeff. An asteroid is on course for the relay.”_

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jeff’s hands began whipping across the console with practiced ease and speed. Garrus didn’t know enough about the _Normandy’s_ controls to understand precisely what he was doing. Just enough to know he was engaging the engines.

Garrus’ hand clenched around the back of the pilot’s chair, the leather giving beneath his talons. “We can’t leave.”

“I don’t want to either, Garrus. But if this thing hits the relay… I… I don’t actually know what’ll happen.” He turned, looking back over his shoulder at the turian, his mouth was drawn into a tight line, his brow furrowed. “We have some time. EDI, confirm for me?”

_“We have forty-six minutes, Jeff.”_

“Fuck,” Garrus took a step back. His hands rose to cover his face and rub his eyes. This couldn’t be the end. “We can’t leave them. Not again.” Garrus ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, considering their options as memories flooded his mind. Leaving Saren on the Citadel. Hearing Shepard got spaced. He dropped his hands, and his mandibles pinched in hard against his maxilla. They needed options and more time. “EDI, can we destroy the asteroid?”

 _“Affirmative,”_ she told them, her avatar shimmering in the cockpit’s dim light. _“The thanix cannon would be sufficient.”_

“Wait. Maybe it’s them?” Jeff suggested, turning to the screen for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at Garrus. “It... it has to be them. Right? Last communiqué we got said they were on the way to the Project Base.”

“Could be,” Garrus wavered in indecision, his talons scraped against his thigh. “For now, get between it and the relay. If they are on the asteroid, maybe we can contact them.”

While the pilot set about doing that, Garrus took the time to pace the length of the cockpit behind Jeff. The trip would be about twenty minutes, the longest damn minutes of his life. He came up with no other solutions. EDI and Joker briefly discussed the carnage destroying a relay would cause, and Miranda appeared to get a briefing. She took the navigator’s seat to wait until they knew more.

 _“I have received a transmitted message, timestamped: three minutes ago,”_ EDI announced before broadcasting the communication. It was Shepard. Garrus would know his voice anywhere.

_“All colonists living in the Bahak system: This is-”_

It cut off, and Garrus swore again. “Damn it! Get them back, EDI!”

_“The comm line has been cut off, Garrus. I am sorry. I can, however, confirm the communication came from the asteroid.”_

“At least it proves they’re alive,” Miranda offered the uncharacteristic shred of hope.

Jeff's voice was calmer than expected, though whether that was for Garrus or the pilot himself, Garrus couldn't tell. “We have a little more time,” he said. “Just hang on.”

So they waited. Soon, the _Normandy_ was in position between the relay and the asteroid. Garrus was no calmer. At Jeff’s pleading look, Miranda left. EDI would keep her informed. Garrus knew the whole crew was just as concerned, but he had no time for them, not now. Not while his heart was pounding against his chest. He could hardly breathe.

Static hit first, and then a voice. _“Normandy, come in Normandy.”_ Garrus would know that voice anywhere too, despite how ruined it was through what sounded like pain and exhaustion. _“This is the ground team. Normandy, do you copy?”_

Garrus was at the console before Jeff could offer it to him. His words were desperate. “Saren? Are you there? _Normandy_ is inbound for pick-up.”

 _“We have lost them again,”_ EDI informed him. _“But I have triangulated their position. They are on the exterior of the station. We can retrieve them in time.”_

“Go to the cargo bay, Garrus. I’ll get us there!”

Garrus was halfway to the lift before Jeff was even able to finish his sentence.

He made it down to the cargo bay in record time. Miranda was already there, fully armoured. She must have headed there after leaving the cockpit. Part of him was thankful and the rest too worried to acknowledge her. He barely looked at the ex-Cerberus Operative as he sealed his helmet in place and pulled his sniper rifle from its holster on his back. Within a couple of minutes, EDI gave them a warning and the hatch opened.

Sighting down the side of the station built into the asteroid, Garrus caught sight of a giant orange projection first. The shape was unmistakable. A Reaper. And at its feet, two armoured figures were on the ground. His heart caught in his throat. The scene brought him back to that fateful day on the Citadel. Saren’s pistol was pressed against the underside of his jaw.

He was too far.

Yelling into the comm unit did nothing. Through his terror, Garrus levelled his stance and pulled his rifle in tight against his shoulder. Shooting was something he could do, no matter how his mind reeled. It had been instilled in him since birth. He could do this. He had to. Saren’s life depended on it.

A deep breath steadied him. His targeting visor worked in tandem with his mind to get the shot right. Garrus knew he would only have one chance to save Saren from himself again.

He lined up the shot and took it.

Time slowed as Garrus watched Saren’s pistol fly through the air behind him and his partner fall the rest of the way to the ground and out of sight, behind the console in front of him. The Reaper hologram winked out before him. With his gaze set on his lover’s last location, he hardly noticed the time it took for the _Normandy_ to make its approach, but he sprung into motion the very instant he was able.

Following Miranda, Garrus ran down the gangplank and jumped the last three metres to the deck. He sprinted for Saren’s motionless body while Miranda arrived at Shepard’s a few seconds later. Without checking, they both hoisted their charge over a shoulder and ran for the ship. There was no time to check if they were alive.

The asteroid was going to collide with the relay in a matter of minutes.

He was panting for breath as they reached the safety of the ship again. “Get us out of here, Joker!” Garrus demanded, tearing his helmet off as soon as the hatch closed.

The short pull of artificial gravity kicking in met him as he checked Saren’s vitals. He was alive. Garrus’ shot had rung true and only knocked the pistol out of his hand. At that moment, the sniper couldn’t help but think of his father. Had he not endured the hard lessons and constant criticism while learning to shoot from the moment he was big enough to hold a gun, he wouldn’t have been able to make that shot, let alone allow Saren to keep his hand.

“Thank the Spirits,” he breathed. His second voice was a ruin of emotion. Exhaustion and worry made his hands shake as he brought up Saren’s vitals on his omnitool. Unconscious, dehydrated, amp blown out and a whole host of other injuries scrolled across the haptic screen.

“EDI,” Miranda snapped, garnering his attention for a moment. “Get Chakwas down here. Shepard needs medical attention.”

“Is he alright?” Garrus asked, concern making his subvocals even fuzzier. With the stress of the past few days ebbing away, he felt tired all the sudden. The adrenaline crash weighed him down.

“He’s unconscious, but nothing the doctor can’t handle,” she said, tapping at her omnitool without looking up. “His suit indicates a concussion and the damage points to an explosion.”

He hummed in understanding, his gaze returning to Saren.

“What the hell happened down there?” Miranda asked, more to herself than to him.

But Garrus shook his head regardless. “I wish I knew.”

+-+-+-+

“Hm. Looks like you’ve recovered.”

Saren woke to the sound of an unfamiliar human voice. It was male and low, with almost a rough timbre that spoke of advanced age. He blinked his eyes open, the overhead lights making him squint. He was in the medical bay of the _Normandy._ He didn’t remember how he got there.

“Admiral Hackett,” Shepard greeted from the bed next to him. Saren turned his head just enough to see the Spectre in his periphery. He was seated and stripped out of his armour, clad in simple fatigues without an Alliance or Cerberus sigil from what he could see. It would seem his consciousness was unnoticed as the two humans kept talking.

“Sounds like you went through hell down there. How are you feeling?”

The other human, this Admiral, took a few paces deeper into the room. His shoes echoed against the metal decking, making Saren wince. He hadn’t realized there was a headache brewing under his crest, but now he knew it was there, the pain only grew.

“Fine.” Shepard was sharp, his tone almost acrid. “No more visions, if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“You went out there as a favour to me,” Hackett reasoned.

Recognition clicked in Saren’s mind. He remembered where he’d heard that name now. Aratoht. His gut sank. Despite his mind being quiet for the moment, he knew it would not last. They’d only delayed arrival, not stopped it. Soon the nagging whispers would find him again. His gut twisted with the realization, making his empty stomach complain.

“I decided to debrief you in person,” Hackett continued. “That was before the mass relay exploded and destroyed an entire batarian system.” The man paused, letting the implication sink in for a moment. “What the hell happened out there, Commander?”

A sigh fell into the air and Shepard’s shoulders sunk like a strong gust coming to an end. “Have you received any intel about what happened?”

Saren blinked. ’Intel’ meant Shepard had had time to send some. He felt sore and hungry, but he had no idea if that meant he’d been out for hours or another day. He was in a sleeveless shirt, and a brief glance at his arm showed an IV line had been inserted and subsequently removed, adhesive glue remaining in the crook of his elbow.

Hackett shook his head, his hands clasped behind his back as if he wanted to do something with them rather than leave them idle at his sides. “All I know is that I sent you out there to break Amanda Kenson out of prison, and now an entire system is destroyed. I hope you can fill in the leap of logic between those two events.”

Launching into a brief but professional explanation, Shepard went over the basics, giving only the information he needed to. _Interesting…._ As far as he was aware, Shepard trusted the Admiral. Perhaps he did not anymore.

Meanwhile, Saren pushed himself up off the mattress slowly. He was stiff down to his bones. Aches from years ago seemed to have returned. Neither of the humans paid him any mind beyond Hackett’s eyes flicking to him for a moment before returning to his operative.

“I tried to warn the batarian colony, but-” Shepard paused and dropped his gaze to the floor at Hackett’s feet. “-time ran out.”

“The batarians report no survivors from Aratoht,” the Admiral informed him. While Saren took the words for what they were, the price of peace, he saw the way Shepard’s spine stiffened at the news. “At least you tried.”

The cold comfort did not seem to soothe the ache. Shepard rubbed his hands over his face, disappointment rolling off him in waves. Three hundred thousand was not an insignificant number. It was far more lives taken than the orbital strike on Desolace had caused. Ten-fold more than Saren had killed in total over his entire Spectre career.

Hackett worked to steer the conversation away from death and back to the problem at hand. “And you believe the Reaper invasion really was a threat?”

“No doubt about it,” Shepard raised his head. The words were said with conviction. The exact same conviction he’d had when they made the decision to slam the station into the relay. “We literally had minutes to spare.”

“I’m sure all the details are in your report,” Admiral Hackett’s gaze shifted, looking past his subordinate for a moment to key in on Saren before returning to the human. “I won’t lie to you, Shepard: the batarians will want blood, and there’s just enough evidence for a witch hunt. And we don't want war with the batarians. Not with the Reapers at the galaxy’s edge.”

Finally making his awareness known, Saren cut in. “What are you implying?”

Shepard’s head snapped around, holding Saren’s eyes. His gaze only retreated when Hackett continued.

“You did what you did for the best of reasons, but... there were more than three hundred thousand batarians in that system. All dead.”

Saren wasn’t sure if the sound of grinding teeth was imagined or not. “They died to save trillions of lives,” Shepard insisted. “If I could have saved them, you bet your ass I would have.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Commander,” the Admiral raised his hands in surrender, attempting to placate the pent-up soldier. “If it were up to me, I’d give you a damn medal. Unfortunately, not everyone will see it that way.”

“What do you suggest?” Saren asked. He rubbed a hand across his thigh, trying to get some feeling back into his legs.

“Evidence against you… both of you-” The Alliance admiral spared him a quick glance. “-is shoddy, at best. But at some point, you’ll have to face the music. I can’t stop it... but I can and will make them fight for it.”

Sliding his tongue along the back of his fangs, Saren considered the man’s words. “Is the Alliance prepared for a Reaper invasion?”

“That’s hard to say,” Hackett replied. His weight shifted from his left foot to his right, displaying his discomfort with the question. “It took multiple fleets -- and the Destiny Ascension -- to bring _Sovereign_ down. And that was just one Reaper. If the Reapers come in force... we’re just not ready.”

Saren had to agree with him. Before he could reply, however, Shepard cut in: “I’ll gladly stand trial once this mission is done.”

“Glad to see working with Cerberus hasn’t stripped away your sense of honour,” Admiral Hackett’s lips curled into a soft smile for a bare moment before it slid back to what appeared to be his habitual frown. “But this can’t wait, Shepard.”

“The Reapers-”

Hackett raised a hand, stopping him. “I need you on Earth with your dress blues on, ready to take the hit for this. Your duty is to the Alliance first.”

Saren couldn’t stop his scoff. Just when thought he was getting over his prejudice for humans, this military leader had to come along and ruin it. “His duty is to the galaxy and the Council, Admiral.” Saren reminded him, a sneer pulled at his mandibles. “You seem to have forgotten that.”

Both Hackett and Shepard’s attention turned back to him. They were quiet as he forced himself to stand on legs weak from disuse. He didn’t allow either of them to get a word in edgewise. “Now is not the time for Shepard to stand trial for accusations that fall fully within his Spectre Authority.”

Hackett’s head shook, his gaze dropping momentarily to his feet before rising again. Saren could see his jaw tighten and loosen once before he said: “The Council agreed, Arterius.”

Saren just managed to rein in his reaction. He wanted to scream and rage against this offence. They were doing it _again._ Throwing their best Spectre to the varren. The sinking feeling in his gut no longer had anything to do with not eating for days, it was only there because of his disgust.

Straightening to his full height, Saren crossed the distance between the beds to stand even with Shepard. They would be a united front. Saren would not stand for this. Not when he had options. And- and with the voices… he was useless as any sort of figurehead for the war effort. It had to be Shepard.

“I will take the fall,” he said. “Take me instead.”

“Saren-” Shepard was halfway turned toward him, ready for an argument before Saren’s hand closed over his shoulder, just like on the Project Base, and he encouraged him to remain silent. A brief, reassuring squeeze and an impassive expression kept the human in place.

The Admiral nodded, and although apparent astonishment shone in his eyes, he did not argue. He seemed to accept this reality immediately and almost with a sense of relief. “You will take full responsibility for the destruction of the Alpha relay?”

“I shall,” he agreed and then turned to face the younger human. “Uniting the galaxy against the Reapers is more important than my freedom. You know this.”

Saren could see the muscles in Shepard’s jaw twitch, but he said nothing. They had discussed his predicament before. There was no easy solution.

“My mind is no longer my own,” Saren continued, holding Shepard’s gaze. “You saw that.”

“We know how to fix it,” Shepard argued, cutting him off. A blatant attempt to stop him before Saren slipped what Shepard likely deemed unnecessary information to Hackett.

But Saren didn’t make mistakes like that and Shepard knew it. He shook his head, feeling a cold vice close on his heart as he finally gave voice to the most painful words since his farewell to his brother. “It’s not working anymore.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “How- how long?”

Saren’s mandibles pinched into his maxilla, and he dipped his chin. His eyes closed for a moment as he worked to find the strength to answer. When he opened them again to see Shepard with his blue eyes wide and panicked, he couldn’t come up with anything more than: “Long enough.”

He broke eye contact with Shepard and gave his shoulder one last squeeze before turning to the Admiral.

Hackett was looking between them, his gaze critical and attempting to figure out what had just transpired without his understanding. When neither offered an explanation, he folded his hands behind his back. “I will take you into custody, and you will be held under Alliance law until such a time where your trial commences. Come with me, Arterius.” He took a step back and gestured to the doors.

“Ten minutes!” Shepard interjected before Saren could even take the first step. Both Hackett and Saren turned to Shepard, brows raised and mandibles quirked respectively. “Give him ten minutes to say goodbye to the crew.”

Saren felt his heart skip a beat. He’d… he’d forgotten about Garrus. No, not forgotten him. He’d pushed his love out of his mind. But now, given this reminder, the weight of his decision took the air from his lungs and made his mouth go dry. He felt ill, he knew his throat paled. There was no stopping it now.

If the Admiral noticed his hesitation, he didn’t mention it. “Ten minutes,” he agreed. “I’ll be waiting at the airlock.” No sooner than he finished speaking did the military leader turn on heel and head for the door, leaving them alone and in silence.

“Shepard… I-”

The human shook his head. “Go.”

The implication was clear -don’t waste your time in here. Saren nearly stumbled as he sped for the door. EDI’s orb appeared at her station beside it. _“Garrus is in your quarters, Saren.”_

He did not take the time to answer.

Rushing toward his quarters, Saren barely noticed that EDI was already opening the door for him when he skidded to a stop. He was somehow out of breath from a mere twenty steps. His hand shook as he gripped the doorframe and laid eyes on his partner.

Garrus was seated on the couch, facing the viewport initially, but at the sound of movement behind him, he spun around. He seemed relieved at first before he took in Saren’s haggard appearance. “Saren?”

Saren hated what he was about to do.

His jaw was tight as he stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind him. Garrus was on his feet, crossing the distance between them before he could get a word out. Garrus’ arms were warm and safe as they wrapped around his cowl. The heat of his body warmed Saren to his core.

“What happened, Saren?” Garrus asked gently, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Karin wouldn’t let me in the medical bay, not with Hackett there.”

Saren pulled away enough to look at his partner. Garrus looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, his eyes were bloodshot, and his plates lacked their usual sheen. He doubted that he looked any better, not after what he and Shepard had been through in the past few days.

Reaching out, Garrus cupped his cheek. Saren let him and went so far as to press his face into Garrus’ hand. It would be the last time. He swallowed down the trepidation. “I have to go, Garrus.”

“Go?” Garrus began to pull back. “What do you mean, ‘go’?”

Saren stepped in closer, refusing to let him leave. He needed every last second of contact right now, just like when they’d been beneath the rubble on the Citadel. These final moments were all he was likely to get. It was too soon, yet so far past what he deserved.

“I’m being taken into custody,” he explained while wrapping his hand around the back of Garrus’ neck and pressing their crests together.

“What?” Garrus hissed, going rigid at the thought.

“The Reapers,” he explained, his voice rough with indescribable pain. “They’re coming sooner than anticipated. We, Shepard and I, stalled them by destroying a relay. The batarians are out for blood.”

“No,” he shook his head but thankfully allowed Saren to keep his hold. “You couldn’t have caused that… it’s… it’s not true. Tell me it’s not, Saren!”

Listening to the pure panic in Garrus’ voice was Spirit-crushing, but he had to keep going, his time was too short. “I have to go, Garrus. The galaxy won’t listen to me. You need Shepard.”

His hands twisted in the fabric of Saren’s shirt. “No.” His subvocals broke around the word.

“I am so sorry,” Saren crooned, keeping his voice soft and lower than usual. “I wish there was another way.”

“There has to be,” Garrus insisted, pressing in hard enough to make Saren stumble back a pace in his weakened state. Had the younger turian not been holding him so tightly, he might have fallen.

“I’m-” he swallowed again. He had to tell him. He should have told him months ago. “I have been hearing voices again, Garrus. I am still indoctrinated.”

The stillness that overcame his partner was eerie. It was as though time stopped, his heart, his breath, all sound, _everything_ just cut out. Garrus’ hands loosened but did not fall to his sides, they remained in the air between them, motionless.

“Garrus?” Saren asked, tentatively pulling back to see his face. It was like a statue, his mouth plates parted and eyes wide. “Say something, please.”

Like water breaking through a dam, he rushed forward. Saren found himself slammed into the wall before he even realized they’d moved. The air left his lungs in a rush.

“I… I can make it stop,” Garrus was saying. “Like before.” His mouth descended on Saren’s throat, bypassing softness for harsh bites. “You can’t leave.” His hands grabbed for the hem of his shirt. “You need me.”

No matter how valid the last statement was, Saren couldn’t stay. If they arrested Shepard, the Council would forget the Reapers all together. The entire galaxy had to be more important than just one person. If he ran away, they were all dead regardless. At least like this, they would have a chance. Garrus would live.

“Garrus-”

“No.” He kept on, sinking his teeth into the juncture of Saren’s shoulder. Even on a regular day, it would have hurt, let alone right now. He winced and shied away. Garrus followed.

“Stop,” Saren pled, his voice dropping to a whisper. His eyes closed. “Please, Garrus.”

His partner shook his head, his subvocals too ruined for him to speak anymore. Garrus’ hands shook even as the tips of his talons dug into Saren’s waist. The biotic grimaced. Time was running out. Without other options, he took the only one left. Saren hated himself. He shouted the single word that would make him stop without question: “Nanus!”

He felt Garrus freeze. Just as fast as he was on him, his lover backed off, his breaths coming in quick pants almost as though he was suffering a panic attack. The look of betrayal in his eyes was more than Saren could bear. And when he reached out, Garrus flinched away fast enough to trip himself up.

He fell.

Garrus scrambled backward until he impacted the couch. He hid his face, his hands wrapping around the back of his fringe. It broke whatever was left of Saren’s heart. Until now, he hadn’t even realized there was even enough left to be broken.

Saren swallowed the lump building in his gizzard. He didn’t have much time, but he owed Garrus at least a partial explanation. It was the least he could do. The truth finally fell from his maw and shattered the silence. “I wasn’t sure at first. But the voices have been back since Mnemosyne.”

“All… all this time?” The anguished keen that left him damn near shattered Saren’s resolve. He should have told him long ago. Not led him on and just hoped the voices would stay away. He was selfish. He was wrong.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t possibly be.

Garrus’ arms shook. “This… just… no… you can’t.”

“I must,” Saren told him. “The galaxy-”

“They'll kill you. Fuck the galaxy!” he spat, dropping his hands and glaring. Anger took panic’s place for a bare moment before the anguish returned.

Saren closed the distance between them, dropping to his knees at Garrus’ feet. He wouldn’t touch him. He couldn’t bring himself to break that barrier again. Otherwise, he might not be able to leave. “I know you well enough to know that you do not mean that.” He told him gently. “Stop the Reapers, Garrus.”

 _“I apologize for interrupting,”_ EDI’s voice came over the speakers, jolting them both out of the conversation. _“You have two minutes remaining.”_

“What?” Garrus grabbed at Saren’s shirt again, the fabric wrinkling beneath his talons. “What’s she talking about, two minutes?”

Saren clasped Garrus’ hands with his own. Looking him in the eye as he said: “I have to go with the Alliance.”

“You’re taking the fall?”

He nodded, unable to voice an affirmative.

“Alone?”

Another nod.

Garrus’ hands released him, and Saren nearly keened for the loss. He had no right to take comfort from the other turian, not after what he’d done. Not after his lies. Garrus deserved better. He _always_ had.

Reluctant was too kind a word for Saren as he stood up and quickly threw a few items into his ‘go bag.’ When he was ready, he stopped at the door. The lock remained red. EDI wasn’t going to let him go yet. He turned back to see Garrus still on the floor, staring a hole through the ground in the space he’d vacated just a minute before.

“Go back to Palaven, Garrus. Bring our people together,” Saren said. Still, Garrus did not move. “Make them listen to you,” he continued. “It is our only chance.”

Saren took a step toward him and only then did Garrus look up. His expression was unreadable, eyes hard. “That’s all you have to say?” His tone was flat, and that alone was more disconcerting than the past few minutes of worry.

His mouth snapped shut, the sound audible in the otherwise silent room. Saren’s focus had always been elsewhere. He was all too aware that he'd never articulated his feelings. Even in these last, desperate minutes, he hadn’t even considered it.

“Garrus, I-”

Holding up a hand, Garrus stopped him with a shake of his head. “Don’t. If you meant it, you’d have said it a long time ago.” His voice shook. “I’ve been a fool.”

“Garrus…” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. A gulf split open between them until there was nothing but a tiny thread left.

He was right, it wouldn’t mean anything now. The words were somehow cheapened as a last minute confession. As though he was only uttering them to absolve some of the guilt. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag, his talons cutting into his palm.

This was his last chance.

Blood slid down his wrist, and still, Saren said _nothing._

The sound of the doors sliding apart behind him broke Saren out of his daze. EDI’s voice filtered in, widening the gap until even that final thread broke. _“I am sorry, your time is up.”_

Leaving had never been so difficult.

Garrus did not follow him to the elevator. Inside, Saren slammed his fist into the smooth metal, leaving a dent as he let out an agonized keen. This was the last moment he’d ever see the turian he loved, and he couldn’t even tell him. He could have fallen to his knees, he felt so weak.

This was the one and only time Saren could be thankful for the slowness of the elevator. EDI gave him time to collect himself. When he exited the lift, his face had taken on its habitual mask. He could taste blood in his mouth. He refused to let the Admiral or anyone else see the pain he was in. He was a traitor to the Council, a mass murderer, a failed partner.

Saren had nothing left but the scraps of his dignity. And even those were waning.

His footsteps were slow, almost laboured as Saren stepped out of the elevator and onto the CIC deck. Mentally he cataloged the items in his bag to give himself something to focus on besides Garrus’ expression. It was haphazardly stuffed with a few comfort items and clothing in case they allowed him to keep something. He did not carry any weapons nor his usual amp, a basic model had been slotted in place of his Spectre grade version in the medical bay. He’d apparently burned out his usual one on the Project Base.

The crew watched him as he walked, reminiscent of the first time he’d entered the _Normandy_ all those months ago. This time, they did not look upon him fearfully. Their gazes were instead apologetic, and somehow Saren did not feel they pitied him. Instead he… he felt their strength. Shepard must have said something, warned them.

It did nothing to soothe the burn of Garrus’ expression.

When he reached the cockpit, Shepard and Jack were waiting for him. No sooner than he stepped over the threshold did Jack push herself off the wall and wrap her arms around his waist. At first, he was surprised. When that passed, he rumbled reassurance and put a hand down on her shoulder. She pulled away without saying anything, her eyes damp.

She walked away without a word.

Shepard was next. He held out his arm and Saren took it, leaving a bloody handprint in the crook of his elbow when they parted. “Good luck, Shepard.”

“You too.”

He turned away to see Admiral Hackett standing in the airlock along with four Alliance soldiers in full armour. Through the glass, he could see they were waiting patiently for him and seemed ready for resistance should he put up a fight. There would not be one. Saren would stay true to his word and go quietly.

“I gave them a case of your ration bars,” Shepard said, less because it mattered and more because he was trying to fill the emptiness. “Tali showed me which ones.”

Saren flicked his crest in acknowledgement. He should have said something about the Reapers, give him advice on how to win this war. Instead, his voice was rough as he replied: “Take care of Garrus.”

“I will. I promise.”

Gritting his teeth, Saren nodded and keyed the airlock door open. Hackett stepped aside, giving him space to step fully within the confines of the enclosed room while the airlock cycle ran. Saren noted the soldiers gripped their weapons tighter and the one on the left had the aura of a biotic.

The decontamination cycle began to run. The blue light slid from the floor upward to the ceiling and back down. Saren stopped paying attention. I didn’t matter what happened to him now or how long this took. He was a prisoner, and for the first time, he truly believed that he was a traitor. Not to the Council, but to his partner.

+-+-+-+

Garrus sat, staring at the floor and the space Saren had vacated.

His nose was full of Saren’s scent. He could still taste him on his tongue. And now, his love was gone. Garrus let out a keen, his second voice breaking with pain. Wrapping his hands around the back of his fringe and pressing his crest against his knees, he was brought back to the day he’d received the news of Saren’s death.

Breathing was difficult. Garrus wanted to drown himself in a bottle of something potent and forget like he’d done that day and for most of the days that followed. Until he’d woken up on Omega and begun building a team.

This time, there would be no chance of reprisal.

Saren had seen to that by offering himself in place of Shepard. Nothing Garrus could do would change that. He wasn’t a C-Sec officer, and he wasn’t a Hierarchy soldier. He had no standing, regardless of his role in ‘saving’ the Citadel and defeating the Collectors. Saren had doomed three hundred thousand people. He’d destroyed a relay.

He gave himself up willingly to save Shepard.

“You going to get up on your own, or are you going to make me drag you?”

Garrus’ head shot up.

Jack was standing in front of him, her hip cocked to the side and the ink she wore smeared beneath her eyes. Behind her, the door was open. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head. “Drag it is.”

Before Garrus knew what was happening, he was pulled to his feet by Jack’s biotic field. “The fuck are you doing?” he shouted as the human tugged him along behind her and into the elevator. The door closed and she let go.

“The hell does it look like?” Jack said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Making sure that you don’t make the biggest fucking mistake of your life, idiot.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Garrus growled, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It felt petulant, but he could not think of anything else to do. Saren had left him. Again. He… he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face him and let him go.

“You can be a fucking emotional dumpster-fire later, Garrus. Hell, I’ll even make sure you don’t drown yourself in whiskey but right now?” She stepped forward, a single finger slammed into his chest. “You’re going to listen to me and go say goodbye.”

He jerked back. “I alr-”

“No!” She shouted, cutting him off. “You don’t get to back down when it gets hard!”

“He’s choosing to leave me!” Garrus bit out, looking away from the small human and hiding his throat from her.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” she swore. “If he doesn’t go willingly, they’ll take both him and Shepard by force. The Reapers will come, and we’re all dead. You included!”

He stiffened.

The elevator came to a stop, but the doors didn’t open just yet.

“He’s doing this for you, sacrificing himself so that you live. Even if it isn’t with him.” Jack let go and took a step back to gesture at the doors that only began to open when she gestured to them. “If you don’t go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your goddamn life.”

Garrus was sprinting before she finished.

+-+-+-+

One of the Marines shifted to his right.

“Sir,” he said, garnering Saren and Hackett’s attention. Both of the men looked over at him. “This decontamination cycle is taking too long. Do you think-”

He was cut off by a dull thud behind them. Saren turned, and his mandibles went slack at what he saw. Garrus was standing in the window. His fist against the door.

Around him, the officers tightened their grip on their weapons.

Garrus’ hand moved away from the window then, his talons shifted into a Hierarchy symbol. The one that said, ‘I understand.’ His gaze didn’t leave Saren’s.

The biotic’s mouth went dry and keeping his voice silent at that moment was the hardest thing that Saren had ever done. With the soldiers surrounding him, all he could do was nod. He didn’t want to provoke them further.

Shepard appeared, pulling Garrus back, and the decontamination cycle pinged as it finished. Saren tore his gaze away from Garrus and followed as Hackett led the way. The humans said nothing. They would forget the exchange despite Saren having burned it into his mind. This last glimpse is how he wanted to remember his love, not as the betrayed turian on the floor in their quarters.

They walked through the docking tube and onto Hackett’s own ship. When they arrived in the other airlock, a fifth soldier was waiting for them. This one took Saren’s bag. Once he was disarmed, they cuffed his hands behind his back. He could feel the warmth of the omni-cuffs as they slammed shut.

Again, the Admiral led the way. Saren paid little attention to his surroundings. They were in a cargo bay. There was nothing special about this place. A short elevator ride took them to the third deck. From there, he was led through a short hallway to the brig.

Simple, barred cells met his gaze. A brief glance showed him more advanced security measures were also in place, a shield generator and more guards. He couldn’t help but wonder if Shepard would have gotten the same treatment had he gone in his place. Once he was behind bars, the cuffs were removed. His cell was small, enough for maybe ten paces along the longest side. A cot and a human styled toilet were the only ‘comforts.’

Saren turned around at the sound of the door closing. The locking system was two-fold, a manual key and electronic lock. As far as security went, he could break himself out given enough time. But he would not. Not this time.

To his surprise, the Admiral remained and dismissed the guard. He stood at the cell door, with his hands folded behind his back, staring at the caged turian. Perhaps, he was going to gloat. There was no doubt in Saren’s mind that this man had taken part in the Relay 314 incident, his age and rank dictated he was career military.

Instead, Hackett surprised him. “You’ve done a hell of a thing, Arterius.”

Saren stood stock still for a moment, watching the man. Eventually, after the Admiral blinked, he said: “When the Reapers come, it will not matter.”

“You’re certain about this, aren’t you?”

He nodded once, sharp and even. “I would not be here otherwise, Admiral. The Reapers have cost me everything. I will not let them take the galaxy as well.”

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well dear readers, this officially end Faults and Fortitude. Thank you for sticking with me through this emotional rollercoaster! I'll be working hard at writing our final installment over the next few months, Risk and Redemption.
> 
> I cannot believe almost a year has passed since this idea came to be. I started writing Vices and Virtues in March 2018, and it has become so much more than just a story to me. It's my first work where I feel like I'm writing something original. It's made me fall in love with a character I'd always disliked and helped me grow so much as a writer.
> 
> A shoutout goes out to my beta readers. You're beautiful people, never change! I could not do this without you. At least, not as stylishly. ;)
> 
> And readers, if you're still here, please consider leaving a comment or sending me a message. Feedback can only help me grow, and I welcome constructive crit. Contact info is on my profile.
> 
> <3


End file.
